


Prove Me Wrong (On Hold)

by DarnLoveableCharacters



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, F/M, Loss of Parent(s), Slow Burn, half-elf/half-dwarf
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2018-11-06 16:07:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 19,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11039604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarnLoveableCharacters/pseuds/DarnLoveableCharacters
Summary: Caithwistë, born from the only known pairing of an elf and a dwarf has spent most of her life in hiding. When an old friend, (or a certain meddling wizard) finds her in the woods, everything changes. Now, she will have the chance to prove the world wrong about her value. A ‘The Hobbit’ fanfiction based off of multiple tumblr imagines that will be linked in their respective chapters. If you recognize it, it belongs to Professor Tolkien or Peter Jackson. But, as usual, the story and all of the mistakes are all mine!





	1. A Chance Meeting

Prompt for this story is [here](http://imaginexhobbit.tumblr.com/post/161021083807/imagine-being-one-of-the-resulting-children-of-the).

* * *

Sweat trickled down her back as she waited for her prey to come into view. Her bow was drawn with an arrow nocked, ready to fly at the right time. She had been tracking the doe for a few days now. There wasn’t much movement in the woods due to the heat. Most of the animals had remained hidden, only venturing out in the night. She was lucky to have crossed the path of this doe, who must have ventured out in search of water.

Her sensitive elf-ears picked up the sound of rustling leaves nearby, signaling her target would be in her sights soon. She remained motionless as the doe stepped carefully passed the trees, stopping exactly where she had expected it to. She took a deep steadying breath, ready to loose the arrow when she heard a twig snap behind her.

She spun at the sound, redirecting her aim at the tall man in gray robes standing before her. She let an impatient sigh and slowly released the tension on the bow. “Mithrandir.” She gave him a brief nod and turned back to the empty space where the doe had been.

“Caithwistë, my dear. What a pleasant surprise!” The ancient wizard said cheerfully.

She laughed humorlessly. “A surprise, is it? The wandering wizard just happened to be wandering in the same woods as I?” She gave up on the hope of the doe reappearing, and put the unused arrow back in the quiver.

“Oh, stranger things have happened I think.” He said with a wink.

She nodded, choosing to remain silent as she unstrung her bow. If the wizard wanted to talk, then he would. Questions usually lead only frustrating riddles that she didn’t want to deal with right now.

“I apologize for chasing your meal away. Allow me to make it up to you. I would be delighted if you would join me this evening for a nice warm meal.” He said with a bow.

“I must decline, respectfully of course.” She said, picking up her belongings. “I have been in these woods for days now, and I would like nothing more than to find a nice cool river to bathe in and a place to rest.”

“At least accompany me to get out of the rain.”

“What rain would that be? There hasn’t been rain in these parts for over a month now.”

Mithrandir smiled and as if on cue, a cool breeze flowed through the thick trees followed by a curtain of rain. Caithwistë stood there, drenched, glaring at the wizard. “You mentioned a nice warm meal then?”

His smile grew, even with the rain cascading off his widely-brimmed hat like a waterfall. “Why yes, dear. I’m meeting a friend in Bree and would love for you to join us.”

“Let’s be on our way then.” She said, pulling the hood of her soaked cloak over her head.

They walked in a comfortable silence to Bree. She spent most of the trek wondering what the wizard was up to. He was a kind soul, but she knew enough of the wandering wizard to know that he rarely showed up without a hidden agenda. The first time she had met him, he had arrived to escort her to Imladris. The elves of the Last Homely House were the only ones who tolerated her very existence, and they graciously sheltered her until she was of age.

The Woodland Realm elves would have killed her on sight if they had the chance. They called her a half-breed, an abomination, a creature born from a forbidden union, among other things. Her mother was an elf maiden, born in the Woodland Realm and had been loved by all who met her. Her father, however, was a warrior dwarf of Erebor. Against all odds, they fell in love. With that love, they created a child.

Caithwistë was blessed with the long life, fair skin and pointy ears of an elf, and also possessed the short stature and temper of the mightiest dwarf. The three had been forced into hiding, and were always on the move until the death of her father. That’s when everything changed. Devastated by the loss of her veru, her mother was unable to move forward and decided it was time to sail to Valinor. That was the same day that Mithrandir had arrived.

Three-hundred years had passed since then, and now she stood, soaking wet next to a wizard, staring at the sign of The Prancing Pony.

“Come dear, let’s get you inside and warmed up.” Mithrandir said, holding the door open for her.

She smiled at the gesture and his small joke. He knew that she didn’t feel the cold like most of the habitants of Middle Earth do.

She entered the inn, still unaware of Mithrandir’s intentions and wondering what he could possibly want from a half-breed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Away we go again! I have a feeling this is probably going to be a pretty long one since I plan to touch on all of the major events. It will be fairly close to canon, but with some major changes! Bear with me on the translations… it’s probably going to be as terrible as using Google translate, but it’s all I have lol.
> 
> Translations: Caithwistë - bring about change (that’s actually a bit of a stretch but hey, fiction)  
> veru - husband


	2. The Heir

A few hours after arriving at the inn, Caithwistë had bathed and dressed in a simple pair of trousers and a blue tunic that hung loose on her. She picked up her cloak that had been drying by the fire. It was still damp, but she draped it around her anyway, grateful for the anonymity it granted her. Covered, she could easily pass as a small dwarf or even a tall hobbit which helped to ward off the unpleasant stares and rude comments. Satisfied, she left the room in search of Mithrandir.

She found him in the crowded dining room sitting at a table that held three plates of food, but her steps faltered when she saw the friend he was dining with. Across from the gray wizard sat a dwarf. He had long raven-colored hair, and wore a fur-lined traveling cloak over leather armor. He was travel-worn, but held himself proudly as the two shared hushed words. It had been many years since she had last come into contact with dwarves, and it hadn’t ended well.

Uncomfortable, she turned to try and escape to her room when she heard Mithrandir calling. “Ah, there you are my dear. I was wondering when you would join us.”

She didn’t move for a moment, wondering if it would be rude to just leave. If it were anyone but Mithrandir, she would have. Sighing in defeat, she turned and walked to the table. The dwarf eyed her suspiciously as she sat down, opposite of where his sword was leaning against the table, and immediately started digging hungrily at the food.

When she had finished with her meal, Mithrandir spoke. “Caithwistë, allow me the pleasure of introducing my friend here, Thorin Oakenshield.” She inclined her head toward the dwarf, but said nothing. The name sounded familiar, but she couldn’t place it. “Thorin, this lovely lady is Caithwistë. She has been a friend of mine for a very long time.”

Thorin narrowed his eyes at her and asked in a rumbling baritone voice, “If you are a friend then why do you hide your face?”

Caithwistë was amused by his obvious distrust of her, but answered the question for the wizards’ sake. “I like to pass unnoticed by other travelers. It’s easy to forget what is never seen.”

Thorin furrowed his brows, and glanced at Mithrandir. “This is no chance meeting, is it, Gandalf?”

Caithwistë chuckled softly. It shouldn’t have come as a shock that the meeting with the dwarf hadn’t been arranged prior to their arrival.

The wizard glanced at her apologetically, then answered Thorin. “No, it is not. The Lonely Mountain troubles me, Thorin. That dragon has sat there long enough. Sooner or later, darker minds will turn toward Erebor. I ran into some unsavory characters whilst traveling along the Greenway. They mistook me for a vagabond.”

Thorin rolled his eyes. “I imagine they regretted that.”

“One of them was carrying a message.” Mithrandir said pulling out a cloth with the message on it. Caithwistë felt sick when she recognized the script. “It is Black Speech.”

Thorin, who had reached out to pick up the cloth jerked his hand back.

“Promise of payment.” The wizard continued.

Thorin glanced at Caithwistë as she sat stiffly, then back at Mithrandir. “For what?”

“Your head. Someone wants you dead. Thorin, you can wait no longer. You are the heir to the throne of Durin. Unite the armies of the dwarves. Together you have the might and power to retake Erebor. Summon a meeting of the seven dwarf families. Demand they stand by their oaths.”

As Mithrandir spoke, the familiar name finally clicked and she inhaled sharply. Thorin. Son of Thrain. Son of Thror. This is the heir to the throne of Erebor, the halls her father had been born in. These were the dwarves who ruled the very mountain that her family had been turned away from, in the same way the elves had pushed them out of the Woodland Realm. While she had never harbored any ill will toward dwarves, she couldn’t help the feeling of resentment when she thought about the day they had been cast out, again.

Consumed by her memories, she didn’t hear the rest of the conversation until Thorin said, “And what of her? What part does she play in this?”

Mithrandir smiled, “I believe she has a great many skills that would benefit this quest Thorin. Caithwistë here is a hunter, a fierce warrior and quite possibly the best tracker I have ever had the pleasure of meeting.”

“No.” She said abruptly.

“She’s also very modest.” He said with a smirk.

She pushed back from the table and stood. It didn’t escape her notice that Thorin had involuntarily moved his hand toward his sword at her sudden movement. “I want no part of this. Mithrandir, thank you for the meal. I will take my leave now.” She said, turning away before they could react. She ignored Mithrandir’s protests, and ran up the stairs directly to her room.

Once inside, she locked the door and took a deep breath. Centering herself, she gathered her belongings and opened the window. As she stepped onto the opening, she glanced back hearing frantic knocking at her door. She felt guilty with the knowledge that she had surely disappointed Mithrandir. However, she did not want to involve herself in the politics of the world. She was certain that in doing so, it would expose her and bring nothing but pain and eventually, an untimely death.

Muttering an apology that she knew he wouldn’t hear, she jumped out of the window into the rain and landed agilely on to the soft ground. Refusing to look back, she ran out of Bree toward the safety of the forest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Turns out I have a thing for bringing the probable romantic interest in at the second chapter… go figure.


	3. Lost

Prompt for this chapter is [here](http://imaginexhobbit.tumblr.com/post/160736951391/imagine-accidentally-punching-thorin-submitted-by).

* * *

Nearly nine months had passed since the night Caithwistë had dined with Mithrandir and Thorin. In that time, she had moved west and had been living in the Old Forest. When she had first arrived though, the trees had been hostile toward her, eventually driving her south toward the Barrow Downs where she was attacked by a cloaked figure with skeletal hands and eerily glowing eyes. Feeling ill, she had managed to put two arrows in the creature, but it continued to advance on her until a voice boomed through the trees.

_Get out, you old wight! Vanish in the sunlight!_

_Shrivel like the cold mist, like the winds go wailing,_

_Out into the barren lands far beyond the mountains!_

_Come never here again! Leave your barrow empty!_

_Lost and forgotten be, darker than the darkness,_

_Where gates stand for ever shut, till the world is mended._

The voice belonged to an old man in a bright blue jacket and yellow boots. By the time he had finished his song, the creature had vanished and her illness instantly faded. He had sent her back on her way after assuring she was safe, but with a warning to stay away from the Barrow Downs as well as the center of the forest.

She smiled as she thought of the strange old man while she pulled a rabbit from a snare. He was odd, and spoke mostly by singing, but since their meeting the trees seemed to be less angry with her. They only met on one other occasion, and that time he had taught her how to become friends with the forest.

Heeding his advice, she took great care to only use what was already fallen and dead to make fires for her meals, and before sleeping she would sing the trees a lullaby that her mother had taught her. However, with the uneasy peace she had made with the forest, it made it that much more unsettling when they started to sway menacingly as her small rabbit cooked.

She sat still and listened. Above the warning of the trees, she could hear soft footsteps creeping behind her. She tensed as she realized how close they were and she turned, swinging her right fist, and hit the intruder directly in the jaw. She watched in shock as the offending raven-haired dwarf fell to the ground with a grunt.

“Thorin?” She gasped in surprise. It was him, but there were silver streaks blending into his dark hair that she hadn’t noticed before.

“Caithwistë.” He acknowledged. He sat up, groaning, and rubbed his jaw.

“What are you doing here?” She demanded, glancing up at the trees in fear.

He looked at her in shock, as if his intentions had never been questioned before. “Apologies, my lady. I did not mean to startle you. Perhaps I should have coughed before approaching.”

She glared down at him, unhappy with his evasion. “I asked, why are you here?”

He stood slowly with his arms raised, as if he were trying to calm a wary predator. Once he was on his feet, his eyes moved down, taking in her un-cloaked appearance. She was shorter than he was. Petite, some may say, with fair skin and piercing blue eyes that matched his own. Her long blonde hair was pulled back in a tight braid, revealing her pointed ears. “You’re a hobbit?” He asked, avoiding her question again.

She narrowed her eyes at him, and simply nodded.

“You’re a bit tall for a hobbit.” He mused.

“I’ve heard that before.” She said. She felt some of her tension ease, though she was still worried that the trees may lash out in their anger. “You shouldn’t be here. This place isn’t safe.” She said quietly.

“I am on my way to the shire.” He said, glancing down. He was suddenly unable to meet her eyes.

She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow, “You’re a bit too far South.”

He glared at the ground and simply nodded.

She watched him for a moment in silence, waiting for further explanation. When none came, her eyes widened slightly in shock as the truth dawned on her. “You’re lost?”

His expression was pained as he silently nodded again.

She was surprised at the amount of sympathy she felt toward the dwarf-lord in that moment. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about Master Dwarf.” He finally met her eyes again as she spoke. “This forest can be deceptive, and the trees don’t help much.” She said this looking up at the still swaying trees.

She glanced back at Thorin, who was glaring at the ground again.

“Oh.” She said. She bit her bottom lip, suddenly fighting off a grin. “This isn’t the first time you’ve been lost?”

Thorin looked as if he wished he could have been anywhere else as he slowly shook his head.

Another moment of stunned silence, then his head snapped up as she suddenly burst into laughter. Between fits of giggles, and with eyes full of tears, she managed to choke out a weak apology.

He tried to continue glaring at her, but eventually his expression softened and she was rewarded with a bashful smile.

“Come then, Master Dwarf.” She said when she had finally managed to stop giggling. “Join me in my feast and I shall help you find your way.” She gestured to the small rabbit that was still roasting over the fire.

He glanced at the rabbit, then back to Caithwistë with a warm expression. “Thank you, my lady.” He said, bowing deeply.

They finished the meal quickly, and after gathering her few belongings they traveled North to the edge of the forest. They walked in a comfortable silence at Caithwistë’s recommendation. She did not want to disturb the trees as she could still feel their hatred toward Thorin, the intruder. It did not take long before they reached the edge of the forest and the road was in sight.

Thorin listened intently as Caithwistë gave him directions to the Shire. When she was finished, he bowed again. “Thank you, my lady.”

“It was no trouble at all Master Dwarf. I’m happy that I could assist you.” She said cheerfully.

He looked at her questioningly, then suddenly looked as if he had come to a decision. “It seems as if the wizard may have been right about you.”

She crossed her arms, suddenly feeling too exposed. “What do you mean?”

He gave her an appraising look, then walked around her as he spoke. “I can see that you’re strong.” She tensed, but forced herself to remain still as he moved around her. “It’s clear that you have managed to survive on your own in the wild for quite some time now.” He was behind her now, and it took every ounce of strength that she possessed to not turn so he was in her sight. “But, you have no trust for others.” He was almost complete with his circuit. “So, while the wizard may not have exaggerated your abilities, I don’t believe it would be wise for you to join my company.” He stopped in front of her and clasped his hands behind his back, observing her quietly.

She laughed humorlessly, filling the tense silence. “And my statement that ‘I want no part of this’ wasn’t enough to convince you of that?”

He smirked and leaned close to her, whispering his challenge. “Prove me wrong.” Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving her stunned.

She watched him walk away for a moment, before suddenly giggling. “The Shire is in the other direction.” She called out, stopping Thorin in his tracks. She heard him sigh as he looked down again in frustration.

She glanced back at the Old Forest, weighing her options. It shocked her how easily the decision had come to her, and she said a silent goodbye to the trees and the strange old man in the South before walking toward Thorin. “It seems as if you have left me no choice, Master Dwarf.” He turned to her, the frustration still clear on his face. “Since you seem so intent on getting lost, it would be impolite of me to allow you to wander alone.”

Thorin glared at her again as she stood in front of him, shaking from her attempts to restrain her laughter. Once again, he couldn’t hold the glare and broke into a wide grin. “Lead the way then, tracker.”

Caithwistë turned on her heel cheerfully and he fell into step beside her, walking in the right direction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote so many versions of this chapter it’s kind of ridiculous. But, I’m really happy with this one! I’m glad I didn’t post the first few, because once I finally settled on this idea it just flowed so much better than the previous versions. I hope y’all like my choice :-) Plus, I got to do a small tribute to Tom Bombadil who just seems to have been forgotten along the way. (Even though he isn’t mentioned by name) The song is actually from the Lord of the Rings books though.


	4. Just In Case

Night had fallen by the time they reached Hobbiton. It was quiet, apart from the chirping of the crickets. Thorin had been nervous as they passed all of the hobbit holes with dark windows, but breathed a sigh of relief when Caithwistë pointed out a marked door. “I believe that is the place you’re looking for.” She said quietly, stopping at a gate.

The home was still brightly lit, and they could hear the muffled sound of a boisterous song coming from the hobbit hole. Smiling, Thorin pushed the gate open and walked up the stairs toward the circular door. He raised his hand to knock, but hesitated when he realized he was standing alone. Glancing back, he saw the small hooded-figure lingering at the gate.

He sighed. Caithwistë had wrapped her cloak tightly around her shortly after they had left the Old Forest. When he had asked why she chose to remain hidden, she had simply stated, “This world has not been very kind to me. I keep myself hidden to protect myself from the cruelty of others.” Understanding the sentiment, Thorin didn’t press the topic any further. They spent the rest of the walk only with polite conversation and, mostly, a comfortable silence.

Thorin walked back down the steps and met Caithwistë at the gate. She was standing stiffly, apart from her fingers that were tapping nervously at her side. “You’re afraid?” He asked, not unkindly.

“No.” She said, too quickly.

Thorin smirked, but the smile faded quickly. “You don’t have join us if you don’t wish to. You have signed no contract, and are not bound to this quest.”

Caithwistë took a shaky breath and looked down, unsure of what to say. She wanted nothing more than to flee back to the Old Forest, and live out her days among the trees. However, she felt an odd pull toward the hobbit hole, and the adventure that awaited beyond it. She looked back up at Thorin, who was waiting patiently for her answer, even though his kin were just a few steps away. “What would you do?” She asked suddenly.

Thorin raised his eyebrows, surprised by the question, then smiled again. He stepped back and opened the gate for her, gesturing toward the door. “Join us, and listen for now. You can decide when you’re ready.”

Caithwistë took one more deep breath, then stepped through the gate. Still smiling, Thorin let the gate swing shut and lead her up the steps. He gave her a quick glance before raising his hand and placing three hard knocks against the door.

They heard the noise from inside die down, and the door swung open revealing a smiling Mithrandir. “Thorin. And Caithwistë! What a lovely surprise my dear.”

Caithwistë nodded toward Mithrandir as they entered the home. Twelve dwarves, and a flustered hobbit had crowded into the entryway to see the latest arrivals. To Caithwistë’s relief, Thorin spoke first. “Gandalf. I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way, twice.” He looked toward the nervous Caithwistë and winked, making her smile. “Wouldn’t have found it at all had it not been for that mark on the door.”

The curly-haired hobbit stormed to Mithrandir looking affronted. “Mark? There’s no mark on that door. It was painted a week ago!”

“There is a mark. I put it there myself.” Mithrandir said, quieting the hobbit. “Bilbo Baggins, allow me to introduce a dear friend of mine, Caithwistë.”

“At your service.” Caithwistë said with a curtsy, grateful that she had remembered some of the customs her parents taught her.

Bilbo looked at her curiously. She realized then that the hood of her cloak was still hiding her face, and she gingerly pulled it off her head. “Bilbo Baggins, at yours.” He said, smiling.

Mithrandir grinned at the exchange, then continued. “And last, but most certainly not least, the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield.”

Thorin stared at the hobbit, looking unconvinced. “So, this is the Hobbit.” He began to circle Bilbo as he had done to Caithwistë before. “Tell me, Mister Baggins, have you done much fighting?”

“Pardon me?” Bilbo asked incredulously.

Thorin finished his circuit, and stared the hobbit down. “Axe or sword? What’s your weapon of choice?”

Bilbo straightened. “Well, I have some skill at Conkers, if you must know, but I fail to see why that’s relevant.” He said defiantly.

Thorin scoffed. “Thought as much. He looks more like a grocer than a burglar.”

The dwarves laughed, and crowded into the dining room on the left. Caithwistë felt sympathy for the hobbit, but couldn’t help with agree with Thorin’s assessment. She took a seat in the dark corner next to Mithrandir and a young dwarf with knitted gloves provided her with a bowl of soup. She thanked him gratefully and he blushed, returning to his seat without another word. Mithrandir choked on the smoke of his pipe in laughter at this.

The group spoke of the quest as Thorin and Caithwistë ate. They were on their own, according to Thorin. But Mithrandir eased the tension between the arguing dwarves when he produced an ornate iron key. They would not be able to take Erebor on their own, but they may be able to sneak in and retrieve the Arkenstone. The heart of the mountain, which would help to unite the dwarven armies once again to take back their homeland.

“That’s why we need a burglar!” The young dwarf with the knitted gloves exclaimed.

“Hm, A good one, too. An expert, I’d imagine.” Bilbo said. He was leaning over the table and held a candle so he could examine the map.

“And are you?” asked a red-haired dwarf.

Bilbo looked up, startled. “Am I what?”

“He said he’s an expert! Hey hey!” Said a dwarf holding a horn to his ear.

Caithwistë joined the dwarves in their laughter as Bilbo started stuttering. “M.. Me? No, no, no, no, no. I’m not a burglar. I’ve never stolen a thing in my life.”

The elder dwarf who Mithrandir had called Balin spoke next. “I’m afraid I have to agree with Mr. Baggins. He’s hardly burglar material.”

His brother, a fierce-looking tattooed dwarf nodded in agreement. “Aye, the wild is no place for gentlefolk who can neither fight nor fend for themselves.” His eyes moved between Bilbo and Caithwistë suspiciously.

Caithwistë sat uncomfortably as the dwarves argued again, until Mithrandir stood angrily and a dark shadow covered the room. “Enough! If I say Bilbo Baggins is a burglar, then a burglar he is.” The room was silent now, and as Mithrandir calmed down the shadow faded. Caithwistë breathed a sigh of relief as he continued speaking. “Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet. In fact, they can pass unseen by most if they choose. And while the dragon is accustomed to the smell of dwarf, the scent of hobbit is all but unknown to him, which gives us a distinct advantage.” He turned to Thorin, his expression stern. “You asked me to find the burglar to join this company, and I have chosen Mister Baggins. There’s a lot more to him than appearances suggest, and he’s got a great deal more to offer than any of you know, including himself.” He glanced at the hobbit who looked unsure, then back to Thorin. “You must trust me on this.”

Thorin’s eyes flicked to Caithwistë, who simply nodded. While she did not always agree with Mithrandir, she trusted his judgement.

Thorin sighed in defeat, then addressed Mithrandir. “Very well. We will do it your way.” He turned to Balin. “Give him the contract.”

“It’s just the usual summary of out-of-pocket expenses, time required, remuneration, funeral arrangements, so forth.” Balin said, handing over a long document.

Bilbo took it with raised eyebrows. “Funeral arrangements?” Balin simply nodded, and Bilbo stepped out of the small room to read it. As he read it, Thorin stood and leaned toward Mithrandir, whispering something she could not hear.

“And the lass?” Balin queried.

Thorin leaned away from Mithradir and gave Caithwistë a calculating stare. “Give her a contract as well.” He said without taking his eyes off her.

Caithwistë was shocked when Balin produced the contract, which laid out the terms of her services as a hunter and a tracker for the company. She fixed Mithrandir with a pointed glare. He smiled sheepishly. “I may have told them to draw one up for you. Just in case.”

Caithwistë rolled her eyes and began reading the long document until she heard Bilbo exclaim “Incineration?”

“Oh, aye. He’ll melt the flesh off your bones in the blink of an eye.” Said the dwarf with the floppy hat.

“You all right, laddie?” Balin asked kindly when Bilbo doubled over, looking ill.

“Uh, yeah...Feel a bit faint.” He said.

“Think furnace with wings.” The floppy-hat dwarf was saying. “Flash of light, searing pain, then Poof! You’re nothing more than a pile of ash.”

Caithwistë cringed at the last part, as she watched Bilbo trying to steady his breathing. “Hmmm. Nope.” He said, right before he fainted.

Mithrandir scoffed. “Ah, very helpful, Bofur.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember how I said this might be a bit long? Well, I may have under-exaggerated lol. There’s just so much!


	5. A Blank Signature

Caithwistë excused herself, and sat on a bench in the hallway as Mithrandir escorted Bilbo into the sitting room to calm him down. She had just finished reading the contract when a pair of smiling dwarves approached her. One was blonde and the other had dark hair, but they both slightly resembled Thorin in the way the held themselves.

“Fili.” Said the blonde.

“Kili.” Said the dark-haired one.

“At your service.” They said together, bowing.

Caithwistë smiled. “Caithwistë, at yours.” She said, dipping her head respectfully.

“Are you a hobbit as well, Miss Caithwistë?” Kili asked.

She nodded and Kili’s grin widened. “You’re a bit tall for a hobbit, aren’t you?” Fili asked.

“A bit.” She said, amused.

“Our Uncle, Thorin, says that you helped him when he was lost. Is that true?” Kili asked, gesturing toward the dwarf in question.

Caithwistë raised her eyebrows, shocked that Thorin would have said anything about it. She looked in the direction that Kili had motioned and spotted him. He was standing close to the front door next to Balin, watching her carefully. When she made eye contact with him, he gave her a small smile and returned his focus to elder dwarf. “It is.” She said, returning her focus to the brothers.

They shared an excited look with each other. “You must have a lot of skill for Uncle to turn to you for help. He’s very stubborn.” Fili said thoughtfully.

“I noticed that.” She said laughing, thinking about how he had struggled to admit he was lost. “Though, he didn’t come to me directly for help. He just happened to cross my path on the way.”

“Well it’s a good thing he did!” Kili said cheerfully. “Even if Mister Boggins doesn’t join us, I know we can do this with you and Gandalf!”

She glanced down at the papers in her lap and furrowed her brows. She had opened her mouth to reply, when Bilbo scurried from the sitting room. They all watched as he dashed straight to his bedroom without a word.

“What do you think that was about?” Kili asked.

“I think we just lost our burglar.” Fili answered solemnly.

Caithwistë took advantage of the distraction of the hobbit, and excused herself. Wanting to find a quiet place to think she set off toward the front door. She could feel multiple pairs of eyes watching her as she passed through silently. To her immense relief, no one moved to stop her, and she slipped into the cool air of the night closing the door behind her. She slumped on a bench and stared up at the twinkling stars, thinking about everything that had just happened.

She was still sitting like that when she heard the door opening behind her. “Caithwistë.” Mithrandir gasped in relief. “I thought that you would be long gone when they told me you weren’t in the house.”

“Still here.” She muttered, wondering briefly what was holding her back.

Mithrandir sat next to her smiling, and lit his pipe. She watched him blow a few smoke rings before he spoke again. “I must say, I was equal parts surprised and relieved to see you standing beside Thorin at the door this evening. It was good of you to help him, even if you decide that this is the end of your part in this journey.”

Caithwistë glaced up at Mithrandir who was looking at her knowingly. She sighed. “I don’t belong here Mithrandir.” He opened his mouth to argue, but she held her hand up to silence him. “They seem accepting now, but it’s only because they believe I’m a hobbit. What happens if they find out what I really am? A filthy half-breed.” She said angrily.

“Perhaps by that time,” Mithrandir started slowly, “they will know your true worth and will not judge you as harshly as others have.”

Caithwistë scoffed bitterly. “That didn’t work for my Naneth and dâd.”

“You are neither of them.” He said sternly.

She glared at the ground, still unconvinced. “Why is this so important to you?” She asked suddenly.

Mithrandir looked at her, shocked at the question. “I believe everyone has value…”

“No.” She said cutting him off. “I mean, why is this quest so important?”

“It’s a quest to reclaim a home and slay a dragon. Isn’t that enough to fight for?”

“No.” She said, causing Mithrandir to raise an eyebrow. “I mean yes, it’s noble enough. But there has to be something else for you to take such an interest in it.” She narrowed her eyes as a dark look passed across his face. “There’s something coming, isn’t there?”

Mithrandir choked on the smoke from his pipe. When he could breathe normally again, he glanced at her and sighed. “I have suspicions, but that’s nothing to concern yourself with right now.” She huffed as he stood. “You have a choice to make Caithwistë. You can either live your life as you have, alone and afraid. Or, you can join this quest and take the opportunity to prove the world wrong about you. And to prove yourself wrong for that matter.”

With that, he turned and ducked into Bilbo’s house again, leaving her to her thoughts.

She had spent the past two centuries alone, rarely coming into contact with anyone since the day she left Imladris. Most of those meetings ended either with her being exiled, or in bloodshed once they found out what she was. Even though the elves of Imladris had accepted her, she didn’t miss the sidelong glances or the whispers that followed her. She had longed for companionship for a long time, but eventually had settled on her fate of being alone.

Suddenly, the sound of humming reached her ears bringing her out of her reverie. Even with her elf-ears she couldn’t make out the words, but she could hear the deep baritone of Thorin’s voice. The tune was solemn, and she could hear his pain as he sung. He had lost his home in a hurricane of fire and ash, and had spent the rest of his days trying to make it right to his kin.

She looked down at the contract she still grasped in her hands and sighed, finally settling on her answer. She walked through the door, and straight to Balin holding out the contract. He eyed her warily as he took it and pulled out a pocket glass. He saw the blank spot where she was meant to have signed, and he sighed. “You are declining the offer then?” He said glumly. She felt the eyes of all the dwarves in the room fall on her.

Caithwistë caught Thorin’s grim expression as he peered over Balin’s shoulder, and she couldn’t stop the grin from forming on her lips. “I would have signed it Master Dwarf, but I’m afraid I have nothing to sign it with.”

Balin broke into a wide grin, and placed the contract on a table that held a simple feathered quill and ink. Caithwistë took a deep breath, and signed her name under Balins. When she was finished Balin inspected it one more time, then folded it up placing it in his satchel. “Welcome Caithwistë, to the Company of Thorin Oakenshield.”

The dwarves cheered, and many clapped her on the shoulder offering their own welcomes. She caught Thorin’s eyes again as the others swarmed around her. He was leaning against the mantle, smiling warmly at her. “Thank you.” He mouthed silently, looking relieved.

Caithwistë smiled and winked at him before she was wrapped in a bone-crushing hug by Fili and Kili. She herself, felt relieved that she had finally made her decision. She only hoped that she had made the right one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s pretty small in this particular chapter (you may have to squint to see it), but I figured this would be a good time to show that she actually speaks Sindarin when she speaks of her mother, and Khuzdul when she speaks of her father. Naturally, she would lean toward the Sindarin from her time in Imladris…. but for those of you that know a little bit about the Tolkien dwarves, it’s kind of a big deal for her to know Khuzdul. May or may not come into play down the road ;-)
> 
> Translations: Naneth - Mother (Sindarin); Dâd - Father (Khuzdul)


	6. Hope For The Future

By the time the sun rose the next morning, the Company was up and ready to leave. They lingered close to Hobbiton as long as they could, hoping that Bilbo would change his mind and appear. He never showed though, and a frustrated Thorin barked the order to move out. Caithwistë rode on a gentle bay pony next to Mithrandir, and listened as the dwarves chattered cheerfully. She had taken great care to learn their names, and even joined in the wager of whether the burglar would show or not.

“You seem to be getting on with the Company very well Caithwistë.” Mithrandir said quietly, leaning toward her. “This had already been good for you I think.”

She rolled her eyes, smirking, when they suddenly heard someone yelling.

The Company stopped, and she smiled at the sight of Bilbo running to catch up with them. “I signed it!” He said, slowing to a walk as he reached Balin and held up his contract.

Balin accepted the contract, and pulled out his pocket glass again to inspect it. “Everything appears to be in order.” He said smiling. “Welcome, Master Baggins, to the company of Thorin Oakenshield.”

All of the dwarves cheered, apart from one. Thorin glared toward the hobbit then turned his horse away. “Give him a pony.” He commanded.

The company began to move forward again, and Fili and Kili pulled a protesting Bilbo onto his own pony.

“Come on, Nori, pay up. Go on.” Oín called out.

Bilbo, who was now riding between Caithwistë and Mithrandir asked, “What’s that about?”

Mithrandir smirked. “Oh, they took wagers on whether or not you’d turn up. Most of them bet that you wouldn’t.”

Bilbo glanced between the two of them. “What did you think?”

“Hmmm.” Mithrandir hummed, as they both caught the bags of coins hurled in their direction. “My dear fellow, I never doubted you for a second.” he said, stuffing the sack into his bag.

Caithwistë winked at Bilbo as she pocketed her own sack. “I knew you would come, eventually.”

They traveled at a steady pace after that, and Caithwistë fell back in line next to Bofur. They stopped briefly when Bilbo demanded they turn back so he could retrieve his handkerchief. Bofur chuckled and ripped a piece of his cloak off, tossing it to Bilbo. “Here, use this!”

Bilbo wrinkled his nose at the cloth, making a few of the dwarves laugh, and the company moved forward again.

“Hobbits are odds creatures.” Bofur mused after a while.

“That they are.” Caithwistë said, chuckling.

Bofur glanced at her as if he had suddenly realized who was riding next to him. “I am sorry Miss Caithwistë. I meant no offense by it.”

Caithwistë was confused at first before she realized the error she had nearly made. “There was no offense taken Bofur. I know we must seem odd to you.” She said, hoping that would cover for her small slip.

Bofur smiled, “You seem much different than the hobbits I’ve met.”

“How so?” She asked nervously.

“Well for starters, you wear shoes.” He said gesturing toward her feet.

“Oh.” She said, giggling at his assessment. “I suppose that is odd.”

“Leave the lass alone Bofur.” Dwalin growled as he pulled his pony closer to them. “She’s different, but that makes her better.”

Caithwistë glanced at Dwalin in shock. She had never heard anyone, other than Mithrandir, speak so kindly about her. Abashed, Bofur muttered another apology and urged his pony forward to join his brothers.

“Don’t be too harsh with him Dwalin. He meant nothing by it.” Caithwistë said.

“No, he didn’t. But he knows little of the world, and of common courtesies. He will have to learn.” Dwalin said, glaring at the back of Bofur’s head.

“Thank you Dwalin, for your kindness.”

He grunted, and they rode in silence. She had already learned that Dwalin only spoke when he felt it was completely necessary. That made his coming to her rescue even more significant in her mind.

They made camp for the night at the edge of the rocky cliff. Caithwistë presented Bombur with a couple of rabbits she had picked up along the way. She had been forced to leave the company to find them, as they made too much noise and scared off the wildlife.

“Oh, thank you Miss Caithwistë! These will make an excellent stew.” Bombur said cheerfully, and began cleaning them immediately.

She watched him, fascinated as he worked. He seemed to be the most reserved of the dwarves, but when it came to food his face lit up like nothing she had ever seen before. He made quick work of preparing the rabbits, and excitedly answered Caithwistë’s questions when he threw something in the pot she didn’t recognize.

The Company fell asleep shortly after they ate, exhausted from the days travel and with full bellies. Fili and Kili would take the first watch, so Caithwistë set her bed roll close to the edge of the trees and listened to the sounds of their snoring. She sighed, amused, and already content with the Company. For the first time in her life, she fell asleep with hope for the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did anyone else notice that Bombur never spoke in the movies??? Like at all….


	7. A Gift

“Orcs.”

At the sound of the word, Caithwistë’s eyes snapped open. She sat up with her knife in hand, fully alert. There was a scream in the distance, and she gripped the handle tightly.

“Orcs?” Bilbo said, creeping closer to where Fili and Kili were sitting, next to the fire.

“Throatcutters.” Fili said ominously. “There’ll be dozens of them out there. The lowlands are crawling with them.”

“They strike in the wee small hours, when everyone’s asleep. Quick and quiet. No screams. Just lots of blood.” Kili said quietly.

Caithwistë was listening intently for the sounds of intruders, when the brothers started chuckling quietly.

“You think that’s funny?” Thorin demanded angrily, startling her. “You think a night raid by orcs is a joke?”

“We didn’t mean anything by it.” Kili said, looking down in shame.

“No, you didn’t. You know nothing of the world.” Thorin growled. He walked to the edge of the cliff, and peered over the valley.

“Don’t mind him, laddie.” Balin said gently, leaning against the rock wall close to Fili and Kili. “Thorin has more cause than most to hate orcs. After the dragon took the Lonely Mountain, King Thror tried to reclaim the ancient dwarf kingdom of Moria. But our enemy had got there first.”

Caithwistë watched Thorin as Balin recounted the tale of the Battle of Azanulbizar. When he spoke of the pale orc, Azog, she shivered. She had been captured by him when she had wandered too close to Moria, not long after leaving Imladris. The wounds had faded into scars, but the memory of her captivity still haunted her. She stood, grabbing her bow, and snuck into the trees while the others were enthralled with the story.

She didn’t intend to stray very far, just wanted to escape the story as it had unearthed too many memories she had long avoided. She found a small stream, and splashed the cool water in her face. This was not the time, nor the place to travel down such a dark road. She pulled a cloth from her pocket to dry off, when she heard a twig snap behind her. Dropping the cloth, she spun with her bow. By the time she was aiming at the intruder, she had an arrow nocked ready to fly.

“Caithwistë?” A deep voice said from the shadows.

She huffed in frustration as she released the tension on the bow. “Thorin. You really need to stop sneaking up on me like that. Eventually, I’m going to shoot you.” She said, placing the arrow back in her quiver.

Thorin stepped into the moonlight, holding his hands up in surrender. “Thank you for the warning Tracker.” He said with a smirk.

Caithwistë rolled her eyes and bent to pick up the cloth she had dropped into the stream. “Why did you follow me?” She asked, wringing out the excess water.

Thorin clasped his hands behind his back as he observed her. “Your bed roll was empty, and I didn’t know where you had gone.” She could hear the concerned tone in his voice. “I came to see if you were well. The woods are dangerous at night.” He glanced around, as if expecting an orc to jump from behind a tree.

Caithwistë laughed. “I think the only one in danger here is you, if you continue to startle me.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “You are swift with the bow. I wonder, how are you with a blade?”

She smirked, quickly grasping her knife as she turned and threw it. It imbedded in the tree, less than an inch to the right of Thorin’s ear. To his credit, he didn’t flinch. She did, however, see him let out a breath of relief when the knife missed him.

“Impressive.” He said, as he ripped the knife out of the tree.

“Why do you say that?” She said crossing her arms and frowning. “I missed.”

Thorin raised an eyebrow in shock, and Caithwistë began to giggle. Thorin broke into a wide grin at the joke. “She jests.” He said chuckling. He glanced down at the small blade in his hands and furrowed his brows. “By Mahal.” He muttered holding it out to the light of the moon.

It had been a gift from her father before he died, and she treasured it. The blade itself was steel inlaid with mithril, with a hilt made from the tusks of on oliphaunt. It was well made, and held its edge over the years without a need to be sharpened.

“I recognize these marks.” Thorin mused, testing the balance. “This blade was made in the halls of Erebor. How came you by it?” He asked as he looked up at her, eyes full of wonder.

She bit her lip. “It was a gift.” She said warily, hoping he wouldn’t press her for more information.

He glanced back down at the knife curiously, then held it up to her. “A gift fit for a queen.” He said quietly.

Her fingers brushed against his as she gently took the blade, and she felt a shudder pass through her at the warm contact. She met his eyes as she placed the knife back in its sheath. He was gazing at her as if he were truly seeing her for the first time, and she felt a fluttering in her stomach.

“We should be heading back now.” She said, shaking off the strange feeling. “We don’t want to worry the others.”

Thorin hesitated, as if he wished to say something. After a moment of silence, he bowed his head and sighed. “Aye. After you, Tracker.” He said, gesturing toward the camp.

She winked at him, and led him back to where the others were sleeping soundly again, with Bofur now keeping watch. She turned to Thorin before settling on her bed roll. “Hurun ganat, Master Dwarf.”

She saw a flash of surprise cross his face, then Thorin physically shook himself. “Rest well, Tracker.” He turned away from her, appearing dazed.

He walked to his bed roll as she laid down, wondering at his reactions through their conversation. Had she slipped somehow? Did he accept her explanation of how she acquired the knife?

As she began to fall asleep, her thoughts drifted to when their fingers had touched, and the current that seemed to flow through her at the contact. She had never felt anything like it. It frightened her, as much has it made her feel warm.

She glanced in the direction that Thorin had walked. He was perched on a rock, watching her intently from across the dying fire. Their eyes met, and her breath hitched when she noticed his lips part. She held his gaze for a moment before she squeezed her eyes shut. She could feel the blush creep into her face at having been caught sneaking a look, and she rolled onto her stomach burying her face in her arms.

What is happening?

The question raced through her mind over and over again as she fought to urge to look back to where Thorin was sitting. Eventually, she fell into a restless sleep.

That was the first night she dreamt of the Dwarf King.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awww…. Thorin was worried. (tee hee) As far as the mention of Azog, I’m actually not sure how old he was. There doesn’t seem to be much information on the lifespan of orcs so the timing may not be right but… still fiction. YAY! As you have all probably already noticed, I’m taking the route of the movies… simply because it’s fresher in my mind than the book.
> 
> Translations: hurun ganat - rest well (khuzdul)


	8. A True Friend

It had been raining for a few days now, and the entire Company was soaked and miserable. Caithwistë was deeply preoccupied while Mithrandir spoke of the other wizards in the world. Her thoughts were centered around Thorin, as they always seemed to be as of late. She had avoided being alone with him since the night he followed her to the woods. There was a time, and a place, for the feelings she was trying to work through. Unfortunately, this quest was neither of those.

The only words they had shared were simple greetings, or his praise when she would return from a successful hunt. Even with the limited contact, he managed to invade her every waking thought and even her dreams. She tried to distance herself, but the more she pulled away, the more vivid the dreams became.

As time passed, she found herself sleeping less and less. She took a long watch every night, trying to avoid the dreams. But even then, as soon as her eyes would close, he would be there waiting for her.

She was so exhausted, that she hadn’t even realized that Balin had been trying to speak to her until he gently nudged her. “I’m sorry Balin.” She said, shaking her head. “What did you say?”

“I was just wondering Miss, would you mind if I ask something personal of you?” He asked kindly.

She couldn’t help the surprise from showing on her face. “Of course, Balin. Anything.” She said, unsure of what he could possibly be curious about.

“Thorin mentioned in passing that you spoke in khuzdul.” He said.

Caithwistë raised her eyebrows. She didn’t expect to hear that Thorin would have told anyone about their conversation. “I suppose I did. Is that uncommon?”

Balin gave her a curious glance, then nodded. “The language has been a secret for ages, only passed between dwarves you see. How did you come to learn it?”

Caithwistë glanced at him silently, suddenly fearful of what he may have guessed already. Her father had never explained that the language had never been passed to a non-dwarf.

“You don’t have to tell me of course. But I am rather curious and would love to know your story.” He smiled at her and winked. “I promise I will speak of it with no one else if that is your wish.”

She looked forward to the head of the Company, where Thorin rode next to Dwalin and sighed. She knew the old dwarf was trustworthy, but she was still afraid of what the truth could bring. She had already grown close to the dwarves, and even the hobbit, and didn’t want to ruin what she had. Still, she wanted nothing more than to be accepted as she was. “I will tell you Balin.” She said cautiously. “But not with this many ears around.”

He smiled as if he had been given a great gift. “May we speak tonight? We can find a place away from the Company after we stop.”

Caithwistë couldn’t help but return the smile at his enthusiasm, and nodded.

* * *

The rain finally had quit, and they stopped at an abandoned farmhouse to rest for the night. As she took in the surrounding area, Caithwistë felt uneasy. She associated the feeling with the pending conversation with Balin until Mithrandir stormed away from Thorin, cursing dwarves.

Startled, Bilbo tried to catch up with him. “Everything alright? Gandalf, where are you going?”

“To seek the company of the only one around here who’s got any sense.” Mithrandir grumbled.

Bilbo stopped in his tracks as Mithrandir climbed on his horse. “Who’s that?”

“Myself, Mr. Baggins! I’ve had enough of dwarves for one day.” Mithrandir snapped, wheeling his horse around and riding away.

“Come on, Bombur, we’re hungry.” Thorin called from behind them, startling Caithwistë.

She watched as Bilbo whispered something to Balin, who shrugged and walked away. He caught Caithwistë’s eyes, and motioned toward the forest.

Everyone was busy either setting up the camp, and they wouldn’t immediately notice their absence. Steeling herself, she followed him to a spot in the trees where they could still see the Company, but they would not be overheard.

“So, lass.” He said, sitting on a fallen tree. He still smiled as if he were a child about to receive a treat. “How did you come to learn khuzdul.”

She leaned against a tree, and closed her eyes trying to center herself. When she opened her eyes again, Balin was still on the tree waiting patiently. She sighed, and finally said. “My father taught me.”

Balin’s eyebrows raised, “Oh? He must have been very well traveled for a hobbit?”

Caithwistë bit her lip. “He wasn’t a hobbit.” She said slowly, gauging his reaction.

Balin continued to smile, and gestured for her to continue.

“My father… he was a dwarf.” She said, biting her lip again preparing for the worst.

Against her expectations, Balin showed no signs of anger. He simply nodded thoughtfully, still smiling. “I thought as much.” She raised her eyebrows at this, shocked. “You don’t carry yourself much like the hobbits do. And, though it is exceptionally rare, I have heard of some dwarves finding their One in hobbits. You’re the first child of such a pairing that I have met though.” He explained.

She nodded, afraid to continue again.

He furrowed his brows thoughtfully. “Who was your father?”

Caithwistë took a deep breath again. “Rofur, son of…”

“Lofur.” Balin finished suddenly. His eyes widened, and Caithwistë tensed seeing the recognition on his face.

“You know my father?” She asked quietly.

He nodded solemly. “I know of him.” She glanced at him quizzically, and he continued. “I read of him when I was just a lad. I fear there are few left who would remember his name though.” He glanced toward the camp with a sad look.

“Why wouldn’t they?” She asked, even though she was sure that she already knew the answer.

“His name had been removed from all of the ancestral records my dear, save for a few.” He said, now watching her warily.

Even though his words were what she had expected to hear, she could feel the untapped anger bubbling inside her. She nodded silently, feeling the sting of tears in her eyes. Her father deserved better.

“Will you permit me one more question lass?” Balin asked, drawing her out of her thoughts.

She looked at him with glassy eyes, and nodded again.

Balin sighed. “Your mother...” He began slowly, “she was an elf?”

She knew, even then, that Balin didn’t deserve the brunt of her anger. At his question though, she suddenly couldn’t contain it. “My mother has a name.” Caithwistë said angrily. “Calyniel Aranel. She loved my father with all of her heart, even though he was a dwarf. She loved him so much that when he was murdered she was left heartbroken, and sailed to the undying lands.” The tears had started to fall from her eyes, but she wasn’t finished. “They gave up everything for each other, and the world hated them for it. Now they’re both gone, and I’m alone in the same world who hates me for existing.” The tears were flowing freely now, and she dropped to her knees burying her face in her hands. Even though her emotions had flown out of control, it felt good to finally tell someone what she had been holding back.

She tensed when she felt Balin patting her gently on the shoulder. “I don’t hate you. In fact, I think that you may be the bravest person I have ever met.” She glanced at him with tears still in her eyes as he continued. “I have grown very fond of you my dear, and I think the others have as well.” He said, glancing toward the camp again.

Caithwistë followed his gaze. The sun was now setting, and the others were conversing jovially around a fire. “I am very fond of all of you as well. But, none of them even know what I am.” She choked out.

“Perhaps not.” He said thoughtfully. “But I think they know _who_ you are, and that’s what really matters. Isn’t it?” He said smiling at her.

She gave him a small smile, and nodded back.

“I must admit though, I think it would be wise to keep this between us for now. I would like to believe that they will accept you as I do, but I think they need more time to adjust. I would hate to lose the reason for the meat in our meals over a silly feud.” He said, winking at her.

She felt tears in her eyes again, and hugged him fiercely causing him to gasp in surprise. “Thank you Balin. You’re the first true friend I believe I have ever had.”

He returned the embrace and chuckled softly. “It’s my pleasure lass.” He said cheerfully.

She pulled away from him, and was about to speak again when Fili suddenly burst through the trees. “Bilbo!” He shouted breathlessly. “They’ve taken Bilbo!”

Caithwistë and Balin shared a worried glance, and they dashed to the camp to retrieve their weapons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Balin is just such a wonderful person in every version of The Hobbit. He’s another one of those characters that just doesn’t seem to get near the credit he deserves. I think he would be my best friend too :-) Fun fact, her parents’ names are actually my parents’ converted names.  
> On a side note… I just started school, and am going to attempt to fast track it so once I really start getting going with my school work, I may be posting less. We shall see though. I love writing and it will probably be my break from the work/school craziness.


	9. Die Another Day

“Who has taken him?” Thorin asked as the Company raced through the trees.

“Trolls.” Fili said breathlessly. “Three of them. Kili stayed behind to help.”

Thorin growled in frustration, and ran even faster. They were close now, and they could hear the loud voices of the trolls.

“Drop him!” Kili called out, just beyond the trees.

Caithwistë could already feel the adrenaline coursing through her as she ran at Thorin’s side. She refused to allow anything to happen to the poor hobbit.

They were close enough now that they could hear the words that were being spoken. “You what?”

“I said, drop him.” Kili said, quieter this time.

Caithwistë and Thorin burst through the trees in time to see Kili catching Bilbo, who had been thrown. Thorin jumped forward yelling a battle cry, and swung his sword down on the hand of the large troll that was reaching toward them. The troll screamed in pain and backed away as the blade cut through his thick skin. Caithwistë stopped at the edge of the trees and fired an arrow toward the smaller troll, who was moving to grab Thorin. As her arrow pierced his shoulder, the rest of the Company crashed through the trees and joined the fight.

The battle was a flurry of silently coordinated attacks from the dwarves, and screaming trolls. Caithwistë watched patiently at the edge of the clearing, waiting for the moments when her arrows would be needed. There were few opportunities that granted her a clear shot, and she didn’t want to risk hitting one of the dwarves. Suddenly, one of the trolls grabbed Ori as he had tried to run passed it. She saw Dwalin and Thorin moving to help, but they would not make it in time. She quickly aimed her arrow at the hand that was reaching toward Ori’s legs, and let it fly. The troll jerked his hand back at the impact and at the same time, Thorin boosted himself off Dwalin’s back to slash at the other hand that was holding the younger dwarf. They both dropped to the ground and rolled away as Dwalin stood swinging his giant war hammer, and hit the troll in the face.

Thorin glanced at Caithwistë as he pulled Ori away, and gave her a quick nod before jumping right back into the attack. She let a few more arrows fly before realizing that she hadn’t seen Bilbo since the beginning of the fight. She looked around frantically, then finally spotted him. “Bilbo, no!” She cried out as the two larger trolls grabbed him. Both were holding an arm and a leg tightly, ready to tear him in half.

Thorin turned at the sound of Caithwistë’s cry, and followed her terrified gaze to where Bilbo was being held. Thorin’s mouth dropped open in shock, and the fight abruptly ended as the Company became aware of Bilbo’s predicament.

“Bilbo!” Kili cried charging forward

“No!” Thorin yelled as he grabbed Kili and pulled him back.

Caithwistë had her arrow aimed at the largest trolls’ eye, but hesitated. She would only be able to hit one, and Bilbo would still be in grave danger in the hands of the second troll. The Company gathered tightly in front of her with their weapons raised, all of them waiting for Thorin’s command.

“Lay down your arms! Or we’ll rip his off.” The largest troll commanded.

Bilbo’s eyes widened in fear as he watched Thorin weighing his options. Eventually, Thorin glared at them in frustration, and drove his sword into the ground. Following his example, Caithwistë and the rest of the Company threw their weapons to the ground in anger.

“Tie this lot up into sacks.” The troll ordered the other two, dropping Bilbo. He smiled menacingly at the group. “Start with those ones. The leader, and the archer. They’re the most annoyin’.”

Thorin shot Caithwistë a worried glance, and she gave him a sad smile. Before they knew it, half of the company was tied up in sacks and thrown to the side, while the other half was tied to a spit and placed over the fire.

Caithwistë’s shoulder was pressed against Thorin’s, and her legs were trapped under Balin and Bilbo. They had found her knife and tossed it to the side before tying her up, leaving her with no hope of escape. She sighed and closed her eyes wearily, listening to the sounds of the complaining dwarves and the trolls that were arguing over how to cook them.

Thorin saw the movement, and spoke quietly in her ear. “Are you well Tracker?”

She smiled humorlessly and opened her eyes. He was gazing at her with an expression full of concern. She rested her head on his shoulder, and answered in an equally quiet voice. “Why wouldn’t I be? Here I am, about to be eaten by three foul-smelling trolls with friends who I met a mere month ago.”

He chuckled. “Of course, what could I have possibly been thinking? That’s how every girl wishes to spend her day, correct?”

She shared the quiet laugh. “Oh, absolutely.”

She felt oddly content as she leaned against him, listening to his steady breathing. She felt her eyes start to close when Thorin suddenly spoke again. “You’re not going to die here Caithwistë. None of us will.” He glared toward the trolls. “We didn’t come this far to be beaten so easily.”

She sighed and sat back up, watching the trolls turn the spit. “They don’t appear to be very intelligent. We’ll figure something out Thorin.” She said, meeting his eyes again with determination.

He nodded at her with fire in his eyes and they fell silent again, assessing. To her surprise, it was Bilbo that made the first move.

“Wait!” He called out, managing to stand and hopping closer to the trolls. “You are making a terrible mistake.”

“You can’t reason with them, they’re halfwits!” Dori called from the spit.

“Halfwits?” Bofur questioned. “What does that make us?”

“Uh,” Bilbo stammered, “I meant with the uh, with… with the seasoning.”

The troll, who appeared to be the cook of the group, glared at him. “What about the seasoning?”

Bilbo smirked. “Well, have you smelled them? You’re going to need something stronger than sage before you plate this lot up.” He said, gesturing toward the dwarves.

Caithwistë felt Thorin tense next to her. “Traitor!” He yelled at Bilbo.

Caithwistë nudged Thorin. “Wait.” She whispered in his ear, “I think he’s trying to buy us some time.”

Thorin’s eyes widened as he processed her words, and nodded.

“Tell us the secret.” The chef-troll was asking.

Bilbo stamped his feet in frustration. “Yes, I’m telling you, the secret is…” He glanced at the dwarves apologetically, “to skin them first!”

The chef-troll turned to the large troll. “Tom, get me the filleting knife.”

The larger troll, who must have been Tom, scoffed. “What a load of rubbish! I’ve eaten plenty with their skins on. Scuff them I say, boots and all.”

Movement behind the trees caught Caithwistë’s attention as the trolls continued to argue. “Mithrandir.” She gasped when she recognized the figure who was dashing through, unseen by the trolls.

Thorin glanced at her, confused.

“Gandalf.” She whispered in his ear. “He is here.”

Thorin smiled, and they watched and waited, hoping that Bilbo’s diversion would be enough.

Suddenly, the smallest troll grabbed Bombur and was dangling him upside down over his mouth.

“Not… not that one, he’s infected!” Bilbo cried out.

Tom looked at him, confused. “You what?”

“Yeah, he’s got worms in his… tubes.” Bilbo said. The troll quickly dropped Bomber in disgust, and  saw Bilbo breathe out a sigh of relief. “In fact, they all have. They’re infested with parasites. It’s a terrible business. I wouldn’t risk it, I really wouldn’t.”

The Company began to yell at Bilbo, offended by his statement. Bilbo glared at them in frustration.

“Thorin, stop them.” Caithwistë pleaded.

Thorin kicked Kili, hard, and the arguing stopped as the group stared back at him.

“I’ve got parasites as big as my arm.” Oín said, quickly catching on.

“Mine are the biggest parasites, I’ve got huge parasites!” Kili added.

Caithwistë let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding when the rest of the dwarves began to argue about who had the biggest parasites in them.

Tom narrowed his eyes at Bilbo. “What would you have us do then? Let ‘em all go?”

“Well...” Bilbo considered.

“You think I don’t know what you’re up to?” Tom said, storming toward the hobbit. “This little ferret is taking us for fools!” He said to the others.

Bilbo looked affronted. “Ferret?”

“Fools?” The chef-troll asked, confused.

“The dawn will take you all!” Mithrandir called out. Caithwistë smiled when she saw him, standing on top of a large rock overlooking the trolls’ camp.

The chef-troll looked up at Mithrandir. “Who’s that?”

“No idea.” Tom replied.

The smaller troll looked up at him curiously. “Can we eat `im too?”

Mithrandir smiled mischievously as he raised his staff and brought it down hard against the rock. It split in half with a loud crack, allowing sunlight to pour through the gap and into the clearing. Caught by surprise, the trolls screamed as they turned to stone.

Caithwistë rested her head against Thorin’s shoulder again in relief, and giggled. “I suppose we’ll just have to die another day then.”

She closed her eyes when Thorin rested his head lightly against hers. “I suppose so, Tracker.” He said with a sigh.

They sat together like that, peaceful for a moment, while Mithrandir made his way down from the rock to free them from their bindings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so excited to truly be in the quest now! This chapter was super fun to write too! It was an interesting challenge though, the dwarves move pretty quick in the fight and the attacks were extremely well coordinated. Especially if you watch how well Thorin and Dwalin work together, squeee! I have to admit though, I got overly excited as I was writing it and had to walk away for a moment to regroup lol. I hope I did it some justice, and that y’all enjoy it!  
> Thank you for the love & support in this so far, y’all are the best!


	10. You Belong Here

Mithrandir had moved swiftly to release the company from their bindings. Once they were out of the sacks, Thorin offered his hand to Caithwistë and gently pulled her to her feet. She groaned as she stretched her stiff limbs, and he raised an eyebrow. “Will you be alright Tracker?”

Caithwistë smiled at him. “I will be, as soon as I have my weapons in my hands again.”

Thorin returned the smile, and gestured to where the rest of the Company had gathered. All of their weapons had been thrown haphazardly into a pile at the edge of the camp. As she moved to join the others, Thorin stayed back to speak with Mirthrandir who was tapping the stone trolls triumphantly with his staff.

As she drew closer to the crowd around the weapons, Kili approached her holding her bow and knife out. “You’re very good with a bow, Miss Caithwistë!”

“Thank you Kili!” She exclaimed, taking her weapons out of his hands.

“Would you be willing to teach me? I’ve had some practice, but I am nowhere near as accurate as you were.” He said, looking slightly ashamed.

“Of course, Kili. That is, if you will be willing to help me with my sword work.” She said, gesturing toward the blade on his back.

Kili’s eyes brightened and he clapped her on the shoulder. “Any time, My Lady!” He said with a wink.

Caithwistë excused herself and walked around the trolls’ camp, retrieving the arrows that hadn’t been damaged too badly. She huffed in frustration when she picked one up that had been snapped in half. There was still a long road ahead and if this was to be the first of many conflicts, she would have to make more.

She ripped the arrow-head off the broken shaft and dropped to the bottom over her quiver when she heard Thorin’s voice. “Caithwistë?”

She glanced up, heart fluttering at the sound of him calling her name. He was standing with Mithrandir still, watching her curiously. “Yes, Thorin?” She responded, walking toward them.

“The trolls could not have traveled in daylight.” He said when she reached them. “For them to have come this far south, there must be a cave nearby.”

Caithwistë felt a strange sense of disappointment, which she didn’t understand, at his words. She didn’t want her voice to betray the sudden change in her mood, so she simply nodded in agreement. She glanced at Mithrandir who was watching the exchange with a bemused expression.

“Trolls are known to hoard the belongings of their victims.” Thorin explained, thoughtful. “Some of them could be of use to us. Do you think that you can follow their trail to find the cave?”

Caithwistë scoffed. Trolls left an obvious trail in their movement. It would have been an easy task to fill for even a novice tracker. She smirked at him confidently. “That won’t be a problem.” She said, and turned on her heel. She walked a few steps before realizing that the others hadn’t moved. She turned back to Thorin, raising her eyebrows. “Are you coming with, or will I be exploring the cave on my own.”

Thorin seemed to snap out of a daze and quickly made his way to where she was standing, looking at her expectantly.

She crossed her arms, amused. “Just us then?”

Thorin sighed in defeat, then called for the Company to move out.

As she had expected, the trail was easy to follow and they quickly found their way to the cave. Caithwistë hesitated when the smell of death reached her nose. She glared at the caves entrance as memories of her captivity began to flood through her.

She jumped when Mithrandir lightly tapped her shoulder. “You should wait out here My Dear. Help the others keep watch.” He said, looking at her with understanding.

She nodded gratefully, and turned away anxious to move away from the smell. She sat on a rock a few paces away and took a deep breath of fresh air.

After a few moments, Bilbo approached her. “Miss Caithwistë?”

“Yes Bilbo?” She said, smiling sweetly at the hobbit.

He shuffled his feet, and took a deep breath. “I just wanted to thank you, for helping me back there. You all saved my life.” He said, looking glumly back at the dwarves who were sorting their packs.

She patted his arm, feeling for him. “I would do it any day Bilbo.”

He looked back at her, full of emotion. “I don’t know what I was thinking.” He blurted out suddenly, catching her off-guard. “I should never have come on this journey. I’m not strong or brave like any of you. I don’t belong here.”

She gripped his shoulders tightly, looking him in the eyes with determination. “You are part of this Company Bilbo. You may not have lived a life on the road, and you may never have swung a sword.” He looked down in shame, and she put her fingers on his chin forcing him to look up at her while she continued. “But, bravery comes in many different forms. You left a life of comfort, knowing full well that you may never go back. You took on three trolls just to help the company. Plus, if it weren’t for you distracting the them, we may have all died before Gandalf arrived. You do belong here Bilbo.” She said with conviction.

She released her grip on him, and he nodded. “Thank you Caithwistë.” He said, wiping his nose.

She smiled at him again. “Now, I don’t want to hear any more talk like that. Do you understand Master Hobbit?”

He grinned sheepishly, and nodded again.

“Bilbo.” Mithrandir called out.

Bilbo glanced at Caithwistë and she winked at him. “Better not keep the wizard waiting.”

He smirked and briskly walked to Mithrandir, with a new skip to his step.

She watched them talk for a moment when a strange sound reached her ears, making her jump to her feet with her bow in her hands. Thorin was at her side in an instant as she carefully knocked an arrow.

“What is it Tracker?” He asked, scanning the area.

“Shh.” She said, closing her eyes to focus on the sound. She could hear multiple feet hitting the ground, and the sound of something heavy dragging behind them. “There’s something coming.” She warned, opening her eyes again. “It’s moving fast.”

Thorin glanced at her with concern. “Friend or foe?”

“I don’t know.” She replied, and instinctively began to move toward the sound with her bow raised.

“Something’s coming!” Thorin called out to the Company, drawing his sword. The blade caught her eye briefly, and she smirked. The blade was of Elven make. She allowed herself a moment to wonder if that meant he didn’t harbor the same resentment most dwarves carried for elves, before shaking her head and refocusing on the threat headed their way.

“Stick together! Arm yourselves!” Mithrandir called out, drawing his own blade.

The Company fell into step behind Caithwistë, weapons at the ready. They fanned out at the edge of a small clearing, waiting for the intruders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another one that it took me a while to figure out how I wanted it to play out to tie in to the rest of the story. I believe this is version 6 :-P But again, I’m glad I waited to post because this is WAY better than the other ones. Bilbo needs some comfort, and Thorin is still lost hahaha. Again, I hope y’all like my choice!


	11. I Will Protect You

“Get ready.” Caithwistë warned the company, taking a steadying breath. She drew her arrow back, aiming toward the sound.

They all had their weapons raised when suddenly a team of giant rabbits crashed through the trees pulling a sled. “Thieves! Fire! Murder!” Cried the rider.

“Radagast!” Mithrandir exclaimed. Caithwistë slowly released the tension on her bow taking in the newcomer. He was dressed all in brown, and wore a floppy brown hat. She raised an eyebrow uncertainly, noticing the bird poop caked in his hair. He looked nervous as Mithrandir approached him. “Radagast the brown. What on earth are you doing here?”

“I was looking for you, Gandalf.” Radagast said with a warning tone. “Something’s wrong. Something’s terribly wrong.”

“Yes?” Mithrandir pressed, concerned.

Radagast opened his mouth to speak, but suddenly became flustered. “Oh, just give me a minute. Um, oh, I had a thought, and now I’ve lost it. It was, it was right there, on the tip of my tongue.” A flash of surprise crossed his face, and he rolled his tongue. “Oh, it’s not a thought at all; it’s a silly old...” He stopped speaking and stuck his tongue out further. Mithrandir reached out and plucked something off of it. “stick insect!” He smiled then, and held his hands out as Mithrandir handed the insect over to him.

Caithwistë looked around at the company, and chuckled at the mortified expressions on each of their faces. She had heard tales of Radagast, but seeing him in person was still a shock to her. She tried to imagine what it was like for the dwarves who had heard little of the odd wizard.

While Mithrandir had pulled Radagast away to speak privately, Dwalin approached Caithwistë with Thorin in tow. “Do you know this one?” Dwalin asked, inclining his head toward the wizards.

“I’ve heard stories of him.” She said with a shrug. “He’s not a threat.” She added, when Thorin and Dwalin shared an uneasy look.

Suddenly, a howl rang out in the distance. Caithwistë jumped to her feet and faced the direction that the howl had sounded, nocking an arrow in her bow.

“Was that a wolf? Are there… are there wolves out there?” Bilbo stammered from behind her.

“Wolves? No, that is not a wolf.” Replied Bofur with a trembling voice.

Caithwistë heard a soft growl coming from behind them, and she spun just as a large warg knocked Dori over. Thorin was there in an instant, driving his blade through the wargs head. She watched as he tried to dislodge the sword from its dead body when suddenly something heavy tackled her to the ground.

“Caithwistë!” Kili yelled. He shot an arrow at the warg that was on top of her, and it tumbled down the hill straight to Dwalin’s feet. The warg shook itself, and got back to its feet but Dwalin drove his Warhammer straight into its skull with a sickening crunch.

“Are you okay lass?” Dwalin said, rushing to help her up.

“I’m fine.” Caithwistë muttered shakily as he pulled her to her feet.

“WargScouts!” Thorin exclaimed, finally ripping his sword out of the warg. “Which means an Orc pack is not far behind.”

Bilbo blanched. “Orc pack?”

“Who did you tell about your quest, beyond your kin?” Mithrandir demanded.

Thorin looked shocked at the wizard’s question. “No one.”

“Who did you tell?” Mithrandir repeated, unconvinced.

“No one, I swear.” Thorin answered with a tremor in his voice. “What in Durin’s name is going on?”

Mithrandir looked around the clearing with concern. “You are being hunted.”

Dwalin released his tight grip on Caithwistë. “We have to get out of here.” He muttered.

“We can’t!” Ori exclaimed, running into the clearing with Oín trailing behind. “We have no ponies! They bolted.”

“We can’t linger here.” Caithwistë said impatiently. “Every moment we waste gives them more time to find us.”

“I’ll draw them off.” Radagast said with determination.

Mithrandir rolled his eyes. “These are Gundabad Wargs.” He said impatiently. “They will outrun you.”

Radagast smiled mischievously. “These are Rhosgobel Rabbits.” He said, pointing at the team of rabbits. “I’d like to see them try.”

“So be it.” Mithrandir muttered. “This way, all of you.” He commanded the Company, and he lead them away at a brisk pace in the opposite direction of Radagast.

They made it out of the trees and into a rocky plain when a chorus of howls rang out. The orc pack had found their scent.

The Company stopped behind a large rock, and Mithrandir poked his head around the side. Caithwistë held her breath as she listened to the sounds of Radagast passing near them, followed closely by the pack. “Come on.” Mithrandir urged, as the pack moved out of sight.

They ran swiftly between the rock in the opposite direction of the howling. Caithwistë was right on Thorin’s heels, and nearly ran into him when he stopped suddenly. Radagast was in front of them now, at the crest of the hill. She let out a breath of relief when the pack passed quickly by without taking notice of them.

“Stick together.” Mithrandir whispered, and turned in the opposite direction again. They ran hard, but the sounds of the pack were still very close.

Thorin stopped behind another rock to watch, but Ori ran passed him. “Ori no!” Thorin cried, grabbing the young dwarf and pulling him behind the rock.

Again, the pack passed without noticing them, and Mithrandir urged them forward. “Come on, quick!”

They ran further across the plains, toward another large rock. Just as they reached it, Radagast passed in front of them and they took cover. As they hid, a warg-mounted orc climbed to the top of the rock, searching. Caithwistë couldn’t see them, but she could hear the sound of the warg trying to sniff them out.

Thorin glanced to Kili and gestured silently to the bow he held tightly in his hands. Caithwistë readied her own bow as Kili took a deep breath, then jumped out from his hiding spot and released his arrow. The arrow struck the warg’s shoulder, and it growled ferociously. Caithwistë jumped out of her spot at the sound, just as the orc was raising a horn to his mouth.

She shot his arm and he cried out, tumbling off the rock with the warg. The Company moved in and dispatched them, but not before both orc and warg had let out loud screams of pain. As the orc died, a determined chorus of howls rang out.

“Move!” Mithrandir cried out. “Run!”

The Company ran as fast as they could, but the pack caught up with them easily and surrounded them.

“There’s more coming!” Kili exclaimed.

“Kili! Caithwistë! Shoot them!” Thorin cried out.

Caithwistë nodded at Kili, and they faced opposite directions firing their arrows at the orcs that were closing in.

“Where is Gandalf?” Kili called out frantically.

“He has abandoned us.” Came Dwalins gruff voice.

Caithwistë killed another orc, but was swiftly running out of arrows. “We can’t keep this up for long!” She yelled, frustrated.

“Hold your ground!” Thorin yelled back.

Caithwistë heard the Dwarves yelling behind her as she watched the orcs closing in. She only had three arrows left, and had to spare them as much as she could. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a rider charging toward where the Company was gathered. She shot the orc, but the warg didn’t stop and ran straight toward where Thorin was standing with his back turned. “Thorin!” She cried out.

Thorin turned, swinging his elven blade just in time to catch the warg. Satisfied he was safe, she turned her attention back to the rest of the pack that was closing in. Another one charged forward, and this time she shot the warg down, trapping its rider underneath.

She nocked her last arrow just as Thorin’s voice rang out. “Caithwistë! Kili! Run!”

Without hesitation, she turned on her heel and rand toward his voice. Kili was just in front of her, and he didn’t see the warg that was nearly on top of him. She released her last arrow and killed it, sending the rider flying.

She barreled passed them, and watched as Kili jumped and disappeared behind the rock that Thorin was standing on. Taking a deep breath, she followed his lead and jumped passed Thorin.

She slid down into a dark cave where the rest of the Company was gathered. Thorin slid in right beside her, and they silently crouched watching the opening. Caithwistë unconsciously grabbed his hand as the sounds of the pack crept closer. The only weapon she had now was her knife, and it would be of little help against the warg-riders. Thorin glanced at her with concern, and squeezed her hand gently. “I will protect you Tracker.”

She took a deep breath, and nodded. “Thank you.” She whispered.

Thorin smiled, and returned his focus to the cave’s entrance without letting go of her hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’re really getting into the meat of the story now, and Thorin and Caithwistë are gradually becoming aware of each other. This has been so much fun so far! I love the action parts especially haha. The writing goes by super fast the more excited I get, so I actually spend more time reviewing and editing than I spend on the initial writing :-P I hope y’all enjoy! I’ve written a lot of the ending as well, so maybe it won’t be so long before I can let y’all know how many chapters this will be. For now, I’m still just going to stick with…. it’s a long one.


	12. Vanished Hope

The tension in the cave was thick, and it increased tenfold when the sound of a horn cut through the silence.

Thorin released Caithwistë’s hand and stepped in front of her protectively when the sounds of a fierce battle raged above them. She had recognized the sound of the horn, but made no move to calm the dwarves in fear of their reaction. They were certain to know soon enough.

There was a scream right at the entrance of a cave and suddenly, an orc came tumbling down at their feet.

“He’s dead.” Caithwistë said solemnly as the Company poked at it.

Thorin kneeled toward the corpse, and ripped an arrow out of its neck to examine it. “Elves.” Thorin muttered, dropping the arrow in disgust.

Caithwistë’s stomach clenched in disappointment. The hope that she had allowed herself to feel vanished with the hate laced in that single word. Balin caught her eye, and gave her a sympathetic look as she took a step away from the group.

“I cannot see where the pathway leads.” Dwalin called out. He was standing before a turn in the path. “Do we follow it or no?”

“Follow it, of course!” Bofur replied quickly, running toward him.

“I think that would be wise.” Mithrandir said with a wink to Caithwistë.

She graced him with a small smile before he turned to follow the Company. Thorin moved to follow, but turned toward Caithwistë when he noticed she hadn’t moved. He walked to her and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Come Tracker. I would advise we do not stray too far from the Company right now.”

“Go with them Thorin.” She said, unable to meet his eyes. “I need a moment.”

He looked at her with confusion, and let his hand drop from her shoulder. “Allow me to wait with you then. I promised to protect you.”

“I’m fine.” She snapped, glaring at the ground. She shook her head as Thorin simply gaped at her, feeling sorry for her outburst. “Please, go.” She said, softer this time.

Thorin hesitated for a moment, but eventually nodded and turned away. When he disappeared from her sight, Caithwistë let out a shaky breath as tears began to silently fall from her eyes. How could she have been so foolish, to think that anything could have truly changed. She knew in her heart that as soon as the others found out what she was, she would be dismissed from the Company. She had been fortunate that the only one who had found out was Balin, an oddity among the dwarves. She would have to thank him one day for his discretion.

Caithwistë looked back at the entrance to the cave. She could easily sneak away now, leaving the Company behind. It would be safe now that the orcs had been dispatched, and she could pass through the valley unnoticed if she was on her own. She steeled herself, and walked toward the opening. She began to climb out when another thought struck her, and she hesitated.

If she left now, she would be leaving the ones who had shown her more kindness than she had felt since she left Imladris. It was difficult for her to admit, but they had all become her friends. If nothing else, they deserved a proper farewell. She sighed in defeat, and gave the cave’s opening one last glance before turning to follow the Company. As she walked, she decided that she would give an excuse and remain behind in Imladris.

By the time she caught up with the Company, they were looking over the Valley in awe. Mithrandir smiled at her as she approached. “Ah, see. I told you she would catch up quickly.” He announced to the Company smugly. “Let’s be on our way then. We shouldn’t keep our hosts waiting, they already know we are here.” He said cryptically, and lead the way down the path.

Thorin gave Caithwistë a curious glance before wordlessly following Mithrandir. The Company fell in line, and she lingered at the back as they slowly made their way to the Last Homely House. She felt warmth as the healing magic of the Elves flowed through her. It had been a long time since she had felt it, and it made her smile despite her present mood.

The Company gathered at the foot of the steps as they waited to be greeted, and most of them shuffled around and whispered nervously. Caithwistë lingered behind them next to Bilbo, who was gaping at the house in awe. “I have never seen anything… more beautiful.” He stammered.

Caithwistë smiled fondly at the hobbit. “It’s a bit much to take in for the first time, isn’t it?”

He nodded, then glanced at her in surprise. “You’ve been here before?”

“Aye.” She said nodding. “In my youth.”

“Mithrandir.” Called out a familiar voice. Caithwistë turned toward the voice, and smiled as the dark-haired elf stepped lightly down the stairs.

“Ah, Lindir!” Mithrandir said, stepping toward him.

The dwarves gathered in front of Bilbo and Caithwistë protectively, and she sighed in frustration.

“Lastannem i athrannedh i Vruinen.” Lindir said with a smirk.

Mithrandir looked bashful, then nodded. “I must speak with Lord Elrond.”

Lindir shook his head in a silent apology. “My lord Elrond is not here.”

“Not here? Where is he?” Mithrandir inquired politely.

Lindir opened his mouth to answer, but was cut off when the Elvish horn from earlier blew. The Company turned toward the sound, just as a group of heavily armed Elves rode toward them.

“Ifridî bekâr!” Thorin called out, drawing his sword. The dwarves suddenly formed a tight circle pointing their weapons outward and pushing Bilbo and Caithwistë roughly into the center. “Hold ranks!”

The Elves rode straight through the gate, and surrounded the circle of dwarves. They pressed together so tightly that Caithwistë thought she may suffocate.

As the Elves came to a halt, she saw Elrond stop near Mithrandir and smile. “Gandalf.” He called out cheerfully.

“Lord Elrond. Mellon nin.” Mithrandir greeted him with a respectful bow. “Mo evínedh?”

Elrond regarded him with amusement. “Farannem ‘lamhoth i udul o charad. Dagannem rim na Iant Vedui.” He swung gracefully of his horse, and walked to Mithrandir pulling him into a quick hug. “Strange for Orcs to come so close to our borders. Something, or someone, has drawn them near.” He handed Lindir an orcish blade, then glanced back at Mithrandir with a knowing smirk.

Mithrandir gave him a sheepish smile. “Ah, that may have been us.” He said, gesturing to the Company.

Elrond glanced at the company, and met Caithwistë’s eyes. “Caithwistë! Mae govannen!” He exclaimed.

Caithwistë pushed passed the dwarves who were watching in shock, and gave Elrond a tight hug. “Elrond, im gelir ceni ad lín.”

Elrond beamed down at Caithwistë fondly when they pulled apart. She smiled back, then glanced over at the Company uncertainly as Thorin stepped forward, watching them warily.

Elrond followed her gaze, and his eyes widened slightly in recognition. “Welcome Thorin, son of Thrain.” He said, respectfully.

“I do not believe we have met.” Thorin growled. His eyes flicked to Caithwistë, and she glared at him.

Elrond nodded thoughtfully. “You have your grandfather’s bearing. I knew Thror when he ruled under the Mountain.”

“Indeed?” Thorin said, gazing back at Elrond with disdain. “He made no mention of you.”

Caithwistë tensed in anger, but Elrond ignored the insult and addressed the Company. “Nartho i noer, toltho i viruvor. Boe i annam vann a nethail vin.”

“What is he saying?” Glóin demanded, angrily brandishing his axe. “Does he offer us insult?”

The dwarves suddenly began to mutter angrily, offering their own insults when Mithrandir huffed in frustration. “No, master Glóin, he’s offering you food.”

The dwarves calmed, and began quietly whispering to each other. Elrond caught Caithwistë’s gaze and chuckled when she rolled her eyes.

Finally, the dwarves stopped their whispered conversation and Glóin stepped forward uncomfortably. “Ah well, in that case, lead on.”

Elrond smirked, and began to walk up the stairs with Lindir following closely behind. Caithwistë fell into step beside Mithrandir, but not before she noticed Thorin glaring at her with suspicion.

She sighed in frustration. Perhaps it will be easy to leave the Company after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much sass and oooh, a little bit of tension to speak of now…. gah! Racist little shit…. Lot’s of translations in this chapter… the Elves aren’t particularly shy about their language lol.  
> As always, I hope you like it and thank you for following!!
> 
> Translations:   
> Lastannem i athrannedh i Vruinen (Sindarin) -We heard you had crossed into the Valley  
> Mellonnen (SIndarin) - My friend  
> Mo evínedh (Sindarin) - Where have you been  
> Farannem ‘lamhoth i udul o charad (Sindarin) - We’ve been hunting a pack of orcs that came up from the South  
> Dagannem rim na Iant Vedui (SIndarin) - We slew a number near the Hidden Pass  
> Mae govannen (Sindarin) - well met  
> Im gelir ceni ad lín (Sindarin) - I am happy to see you again  
> Nartho i noer, toltho i viruvor (Sindarin) - Light the fires, bring forth the wine  
> Boe i annam vann a nethail vin (Sindarin) - We must feed our guests  
> Ifridî bekâr (khuzdul) - Ready weapons


	13. Do Not Let Fear Control You

This chapter also holds a subtle hint at [this imagine](http://imaginexhobbit.tumblr.com/post/161200924499/imagine-all-middle-earthlings-who-can-read-minds)…. more to come :-)

* * *

Caithwistë breathed a sigh of contentment as she laid back on the roof, and closed her eyes. Night had fallen, and the valley was left in the peaceful darkness of the new moon.

“It has been a long time since I last found you hiding on these rooftops, Caithwistë.” Said a soft voice from behind her.

Caithwistë smiled fondly without opening her eyes. “Arwen.” She acknowledged.

She heard Arwen settle quietly next to her, and finally opened her eyes. Arwen was watching her curiously. “Father told me that you were not present at the dinner honoring your Company.”

Caithwistë sighed, and sat up. “I wasn’t hungry.” She said glumly.

Arwen smirked at her, and looked out across the valley thoughtfully. “He worries about you, you know.”

Caithwistë, whose thoughts had begun to dwell on Thorin, looked up startled. “Who?”

“Father.” She said, giving her a sidelong glance. Caithwistë raised an eyebrow, and Arwen continued. “He has never been able to see your path. When you left, he worried that he would never see you again. As did I.” She said solemnly.

Caithwistë bowed her head in shame. “I’m sorry Arwen, I didn’t mean to hurt either of you. I just…” she paused, uncertain, “I didn’t want to burden him. He saved my life when he took me in, but I needed to find my own way.”

Arwen smiled at her. “It seems as though you have. I had never thought to see you traveling with a band of dwarves.” Caithwistë looked down sadly, and Arwen’s smile faltered. “Have I upset you?”

“No, no.” Caithwistë said quickly, shaking her head. She glared at the rooftop, frustrated.

Arwen placed her hand on Caithwistë’s arm gently. “If there is something on your mind, you can speak to me if you wish. It would be as it once was.”

Caithwistë smiled. Her and Arwen had become swift friends when she had first arrived at Rivendell, and she had always been able to confide in her. “I’m afraid.” She admitted.

After a moment of silence, Arwen pressed for more information. “What are you afraid of Caithwistë?”

Caithwistë glanced at her, feeling tears in her eyes. Suddenly, she couldn’t hold back the words she had wanted to speak for so long. “I’ve been alone since I left Imladris Arwen. I’ve met a few on the road, and as soon as they found out what I was they tried to kill me. I’ve spent most of my life in hiding now, until Mithrandir found me.” She paused, and smiled bitterly. “I have traveled with this Company for a month now, and have grown very fond of them. But, the only reason why they have accepted me is because I have led them to believe I am a hobbit. Now that we’re here, I don’t think I can hide my true self. I’ve grown so used to them already, I don’t know what I will do when we are forced to part.” Tears began to spill out of her eyes as she finished, and Arwen pulled her into a tight hug.

“Perhaps they will not treat you so unkindly.” She said. Even she sounded unconvinced at the words.

Caithwistë scoffed, and pulled away from Arwen’s embrace. “I saw how Thorin looked at me when I was speaking with Lord Elrond. He is already suspicious of me.”

“Father introduced me to Thorin. Our words were brief though, as he seemed very distracted.” Arwen said, smiling mischievously.

Caithwistë narrowed her eyes. “He’s probably just thinking about the quickest way to escape this place.”

Arwen’s grin widened. “Actually, his thoughts seemed to dwell on his Company. One, in particular.” She said with a wink.

Caithwistë shifted her gaze back over the valley, hiding her expression. A warmth had involuntarily spread through her at the thought that the Dwarf King may have spared his thoughts for her. “He cares for them very much.” She said, trying to sound nonchalant.

Arwen rolled her eyes, and stood. “It seems you have much to think about. I will leave you to your thoughts.” She turned, but before she left she leaned down and laid her hand on Caithwistë’s shoulder sympathetically. “Do not let your fear control you. If you choose to no longer follow the Company, be sure that it is truly what you want.”

With that, Arwen slipped silently off the roof and left Caithwistë alone. She sat for a few moments longer, thinking about Arwen’s parting words. She knew that Arwen was right, and the only reason for leaving the Company now would be because of her fear. She shook her head, and stood abruptly to leave the rooftop.

She padded silently to her room, and was so consumed by her thoughts that she didn’t hear the footsteps running behind her.

“Caithwistë! Wait!” Bilbo called out.

She snapped out of her reverie, and turned toward the breathless hobbit. He stopped just in front of her, and doubled over to catch his breath. “Bilbo? Are you alright?”

“Yes. I have been looking for you everywhere.” He said between breaths.

Her eyes widened in surprise. “You have?”

Bilbo stood then, finally breathing evenly. “Yes, Miss Caithwistë. We missed you at supper.”

“Oh, I’m sorry Bilbo. I wasn’t very hungry, and wanted to rest.” She said, hoping he would accept her explanation.

Bilbo smiled. “I thought as much, but I figured you may be hungry.” He said, pulling a small pack off his shoulder and shoving it into her hands. “It has been a hard journey, and we haven’t eaten for a long while!”

She smiled gratefully at him. “Thank you, Bilbo.” She opened the pack and giggled. There was so much food crammed in it, it could have fed the whole Company. She inclined her head toward a bench. “Would you like to join me?”

Bilbo gave her a wide grin, and nodded. “Oh yes! I am always happy to share in a meal!” He said excitedly.

Caithwistë chuckled, and they sat on the bench. As they ate, Bilbo babbled cheerfully about Imladris. “There are waterfalls everywhere! And it’s so green! I hope they’ll let me take some seeds for my garden at Bag End. I can’t wait for you to see it! Oh, but I forgot, you have been here. You can show me around then. What shall we see first? Gandalf told me that they have relics from ancient wars, I would very much like to see them.”

Caithwistë laughed at this. “Slow down Bilbo, I will show you as much as I can while you are here.”

“Oh, thank you Miss Caithwistë!” He said, hopping off the bench. He looked at her with an expectant smile.

“Maybe not right now, Master Baggins.” She said, and his smile fell a little. “I must admit I am tired after this feast you have provided. How about first thing in the morning.”

Bilbo’s smile quirked back up. “After breakfast then?” He asked hopefully.

She smirked at his enthusiasm. “Of course!”

Bilbo reached forward and hugged her quickly, then gathered up the pack of food. “I’ll see you in the morning then! Good night!” He said, and skipped down the hallway.

Caithwistë watched him until he turned around a corner. “Such a delightful hobbit.” She mused, chuckling. She walked to her own room, and collapsed on her bed exhausted. She fell asleep quickly, her thoughts dwelling on the decision she would have to make and the loss it would bring to her.

It did not shock her this time, when Thorin was waiting for her in her dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think Arwen technically would have been in Lothlórien at this time… but who cares? I feel like it was more fitting for her to have this talk with Caithwistë than Elrond… or his sons for that matter. :-P


	14. Enough!

_Thorin was smiling as she walked toward him warily. He held his hand out to her as she approached. “Caithwistë.” He said in his rumbling voice. “I had worried you wouldn’t come.”_

_Caithwistë slipped her hand into his, and he pulled her into a tight hug. “Of course I came. How could I stay away?” She said, burying her face against his neck. She took a deep breath, and the scent of pine and tobacco filled her. The scent was purely Thorin, and it calmed her._

_Thorin began to sway with her in a slow dance. “I hope I have not offended you in some way Unalê.”_

_Caithwistë pushed away from Thorin to look him in the eyes. He was gazing at her with worry, and her heart fell. She reached up and cradled his face with her hands, fixing him with a determined look. “Let us not think of that. Not here.”_

_Thorin nodded with twinkling eyes, and gently pulled her hands away from his face placing them on his shoulders. He slipped his own hands on her hips as he stepped closer to her, and began the dance again. “You haven’t slept much as of late.” He said thoughtfully._

_Caithwistë smirked at him. “It’s hard to sleep when you’re being attacked.”_

_Thorin grabbed her hand and spun her. “Before then, I mean.” He said, pulling her back to him._

_Caithwistë’s hands were resting on Thorin’s shoulders again, but she stopped dancing. “I’m afraid Thorin.”_

_Thorin tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and she leaned into his touch sighing. “What could possibly frighten you Unalê. You are fearless.”_

_She smiled sadly. “I wish that were so.”_

_Thorin gazed at her affectionately, and her heart fluttered. “When you are ready to speak, I will be here.”_

_“It is just a dream.” She said uncertainly. She shook her head and began to back away._

_Thorin watched her sadly as she moved out of his reach. “Is it?” He asked, cocking his head to the side. “Dream or no, you must feel something to meet me here when your eyes close.”_

_Caithwistë shook her head, trying to wake herself up. “I can’t think in this way.” She said fearfully. Against Thorin’s protests, she turned on her heel and ran._

* * *

Caithwistë woke with a start, gasping for air. She took a shaky breath, and was shocked as a lingering scent of pine and tobacco hit her. Unnerved, she jumped out of her bed to dress. She knew she had to get away from the scent to clear her mind. The dream had been so vivid she could still feel the brush of his fingers against her skin.

Caithwistë shuddered at the uninvited feeling of warmth flowing through her, and opened the wardrobe. She grimaced as she took in the clothes that had been provided for her. A group of the most beautiful dresses she had seen lined the wardrobe. They were tailored for her, from the time she had spent in Imladris before.

“Arwen.” She muttered, frustrated. She assumed it was the daughter of Elrond who had chosen what to provide. She had always made a point to help Caithwistë become a proper lady, much to her distaste. She glanced at the pile of clothing that she had carried with her. They were well worn, smelly and in need of mending. Caithwistë rolled her eyes and grabbed the first dress, vowing to wash and mend her own clothing that day.

The sun was on the rise as she stepped out of the room. She took a deep breath when she shut the door behind her, and she could smell the scent of roasting meat. This was no meal that the elves would prepare, the Company must be awake already. Caithwistë smiled, suddenly remembering her promise to Bilbo. She shook off the lingering feelings from the dream, and followed the smell.

The Company, apart from Thorin and Mithrandir, were laughing hysterically when she stepped quietly onto the balcony where they were breaking their fast. Bombur was sitting on the shattered remains of a table, and she chuckled as she imagined how it must have happened. At the sound of her quiet laughter, all eyes fell on her and the Company fell silent.

Caithwistë suddenly felt nervous as they gaped at her, wondering if they now saw her as an intruder. She was debating on leaving when Dori broke the silence.

“Miss Caithwistë! You look… different.” He said, looking dumbfounded. She raised an eyebrow at him, and he looked to the others for help.

Balin snickered, but came to his rescue. “I think what the lad here meant to say was, you look well rested lass.”

“No no. It’s the dress.” Bofur chimed in, and Balin rolled his eyes. “You look like a lady!” He said with a mock bow.

Caithwistë giggled. “Well, I should hope so Master Dwarf. That’s what I am!”

Bofur turned a brilliant shade of red as the Company burst into laughter. Caithwistë let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding as they began to tease Bofur.

“You must be hungry!” Nori said, grabbing her arm and pulling her toward the fire. “Ori, what are you waiting for? Fix Caithwistë a plate!”

Caithwistë laughed as Ori suddenly hopped off his stool, and set a plate of food on her lap. “There you are miss!” He said brightly.

“It looks wonderful Ori. Thank you.” She said gratefully. Ori gave her a wide grin then returned to his stool.

As she broke her fast, the Company resumed the conversation they must have been having before she arrived.

“Finish what you were saying Balin.” Dwalin growled. “Why do we have to stay here for three weeks?”

Caithwistë stopped chewing at his words, and glanced at Balin.

“The Elf Lord says that there is a secret message on the map, that can only be read on a Midsummer’s Eve by the light of a crescent moon. That is in three weeks.” Balin answered glumly.

“What trickery is this?” Glóin protested. “What sort of a map could only be read by the light of a certain moon at a certain time of the year?”

Caithwistë tensed as anger began to bubble inside her at the accusation.

She gripped her plate tightly as Balin answered. “We have little choice cousin. We have to trust that he is not playing us falsely, and that he can read the map. Without those answers, we will have no hope of entering the mountain.

The dwarves broke out into angry shouts then, and Caithwistë heard the words ‘Filthy Elves’ and ‘Treacherous Liars’ being thrown around.

Anger getting the better of her, she slammed her plate down and stood. “Enough!” She screamed. The Company fell silent and gaped at her in shock. “You heard what Balin said, if you want to enter that mountain then you need Elrond’s help. I may not understand where your hatred for Elves stems, but I do know that these ones have done you no harm.” She said, gesturing toward the valley. “They have taken you in and sheltered you, and what have they received in return other than your hate and fear?” She paused, watching as most of the dwarves bowed their heads in shame.

Balin walked to her as she glared at the dwarves and patted her arm gently. “We meant no offense lass.” He said kindly. “The feud between elves and dwarves has been a long one. Sometimes, it is simply hard for us to see passed it.”

The dwarves nodded solemnly in agreement, and Caithwistë felt some of her anger ease. She was sad that she had been driven to yell at them, but was not sorry for her words.

“Perhaps we should go for a walk Caithwistë.” Bilbo said, quietly appearing next to her.

Caithwistë nodded. “I think that would be a good idea Master Baggins.”

The dwarves watched in silence as they left the balcony. When they were out of ear shot, Caithwistë let out a breath. “My apologies Bilbo. I should not have yelled.”

Bilbo laughed, catching her by surprise. “Maybe not, but I agree with you.”

Caithwistë smiled gratefully at the hobbit. “Thank you Bilbo.” They stopped at a fork in the path. If they turned right, she would be able to return to her bedroom and hide. If they turned left, it would lead through the gardens and eventually to Elrond’s collection of relics. She sighed, and turned to Bilbo. “I believe I made a promise to you, did I not?”

Bilbo smiled widely at her. “Oh, yes!”

She gestured to the left. “This way then, Master Baggins.”

Caithwistë laughed as Bilbo grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the gardens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I thought Thorin had a temper problem, don’t push Caithwistë‘s buttons!! Bilbo to the rescue, YAY!! Hope y’all like it :)  
> Translations: Unalê - My tracker (khuzdul)


	15. I Will Try

Caithwistë walked absentmindedly back to her room for the evening. She had spent the entire day with Bilbo, showing him around the Last Homely House. It had been easy for her to be around him, and he had listened intently to the history that she had to offer about the valley. She had even convinced some of the elves to gift him with some seeds to take home and plant in his own garden. His face lit up like a child’s when he received his gift, and had pulled her into a bone crushing hug.

Caithwistë, smiling at her new memories, turned into the hallway that led to the bedrooms and came to an abrupt halt as she came face to face with Thorin.

His eyes were wide, as if she had startled him by suddenly appearing. He took a step back, and his eyes flicked down her body taking in her attire. “Caithwistë.” He said in a strangled voice, eyes finally reaching hers again.

“Thorin.” She acknowledged with a quick nod. “I apologize, I was not paying attention to where I was walking.” She gave him a polite curtsy, then moved to walk around him. “If you’ll excuse me.”

She had nearly passed him when she felt his hand grip her arm tightly. “Wait, please.”

She glanced down at his hand on her arm, then raised her eyebrows at him. “Yes Thorin?” She said breathlessly.

He gave her a calculating look before sighing, and releasing her arm. “Will you speak with me?” He asked, catching her off guard.”

Caithwistë searched his eyes, and found a strange mixture of sadness and hope. She glanced toward her bedroom longingly, and sighed in defeat. “Yes. This way.” She said, gesturing to a vacated balcony.

Thorin followed her to the balcony, remaining silent as he peered over the edge. She stood next to him, and gazed over the valley that was bathed in the warm glow of the sunset. “You’re angry with me.” Thorin said, breaking the silence.

Caithwistë sighed, and kept her eyes forward. She was not prepared to have this conversation with him. Not yet. She felt Thorin’s eyes fall on her curiously, but she pressed her lips together unwilling to answer.

“I thought as much.” He said sadly. “Balin spoke to me of the words you had with the Company this morning. You think we are being unfair with these Elves.” Caithwistë bit down on her tongue to stop herself from replying with her anger, but Thorin continued. “You are correct to think this of us.” He said, so quietly that she almost missed it.

She glanced at him in shock. “I am?” She asked uncertainly.

Thorin nodded. “Aye.” He turned his focus back to the setting sun as he thought about his next words. “When the dragon destroyed my home, the Elves abandoned us.” He began. She could hear his own anger laced in every word as he spoke. “They could have been the difference, and that day could have been a victory. But, Thranduil refused to risk the lives of his army for us. Since that day, I have hated them. Not just those who had pledged allegiance to us so long ago, but all of the Elves.” He gazed back at Caithwistë, imploring her to understand.

“By your own logic, I should hate all dwarves.” Caithwistë muttered without thinking.

Thorin looked at Caithwistë curiously. “What do you mean?” He demanded.

Caithwistë’s eyes flicked to Thorin in fear, and she began to back away from the balcony. “I should not have said anything, I apologize.” She bowed her head and turned to leave.

“Please.” Thorin pleaded, stopping her in her tracks. Caithwistë slowly turned to face him again, and was met with his repentant eyes. “What happened?” He asked quietly.

Caithwistë sighed. “It’s not a pleasant story. You don’t need to hear it, it’s in the past.”

“Tell me anyway.” Thorin said, taking a tentative step closer.

Caithwistë searched Thorin’s eyes for a ruse, but all she found was his burning curiosity. She nodded, and he seemed to relax. She sat on a bench chewing on her lip, as she decided how much of her story she could tell without giving herself away. “When I was young,” she began slowly, “my family was always on the move. We were very poor, and my father took work anywhere he could to provide for us. We traveled from town to town, but it never lasted long before we would be driven away.”

Thorin sat on the bench next to her as she took a deep breath, then continued. “Eventually, we came across a dwarven colony. We were starving, and my father begged them for help. They turned us away at the gate without even giving us a chance.” She said, feeling her old anger rising up in her. “It was many years later when we encountered a group of dwarves from the same colony.”

Caithwistë curled her hands into fists as the memory of that day flowed through her. The anger seemed fresh, as if it hadn’t been over three-hundred years. Thorin was watching her with sadness is his eyes as she continued. “My father made us hide in the trees, my mother and I. It was as if he knew what would come next.”

A tear trickled out of Caithwistë’s eye, and Thorin rested his hand gently on her clenched fists. “We heard them arguing. I didn’t understand what was happening. My mother had tried to cover my eyes, but I fought her and I saw them…” She choked, and Thorin tightened his grip on her hands. “They killed him Thorin.” She finally managed. “They killed him, because he made a choice in life they didn’t agree with.”

“Caithwistë…” Thorin breathed.

“My mother couldn’t go on after that. She was completely heartbroken.” Caithwistë was glaring at a spot on the ground, trying to control her emotions as she spoke. “That’s when Mithrandir arrived. He brought me here, and Elrond took me in.”

Caithwistë finally looked at Thorin. He was watching her with a pained look. “It was the Elves that sheltered me.” She said fiercely, and Thorin looked down in shame.

“I would have killed them.” He muttered angrily. “Dwarf or no, I would have killed them had I known.”

“You won’t have that chance.” She said bitterly.

Thorin glanced back at her with raised eyebrows. “No?”

Caithwistë’s eyes flashed dangerously. “I sought them out, after I left Imladris. It took many years, but I finally found them. They will never harm another soul.” She finished, watching Thorin’s reaction.

He nodded solemnly, then smirked. “Remind me never to truly anger you.”

Caithwistë smiled, despite herself and looked toward the edge of the balcony. The sun had nearly set now, and the valley was bathed in an orange glow.

“Perhaps you are right.” Thorin mused after a few moments of silence. He pulled her hand out of her lap, and pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles.

Caithwistë’s breath hitched at the contact, and she gazed back at him. “About what?”

Thorin’s eyes twinkled as he answered. “You probably should hate dwarves.”

Caithwistë laughed. “I probably should. But I never met another dwarf after that, until the day we met in Bree.”

Thorin nodded, grinning mischievously. “Aye, the day you refused to aid this quest.”

“The same.” Caithwistë said, nudging him playfully.

Thorin chuckled. “I’m glad you did though.” He said, growing serious again. “You seem to fit well with the Company, and they have grown very fond of you.” He sighed, and closed his eyes for a moment. “I will try.” He said eventually, opening his eyes again. He gazed at her affectionately.

Caithwistë’s heart skipped a beat. “What will you try?”

“I will try to see things as you do. I will try, to be less judgmental of these Elves that have helped us.” He smirked. “I make no promises though.”

Caithwistë smiled warmly. “That’s all I can ask of you. Thank you Thorin.”

Thorin’s lips parted, and something flashed across his eyes that Caithwistë had never seen before. He began to lean forward slowly, never taking his eyes off her. Caithwistë’s heart felt like it was pounding out of her chest as he leaned into her. He stopped just as he reached her, silently asking for permission.

Caithwistë granted Thorin’s unspoken request by closing her eyes, and softly pressing her lips against his. As soon as their lips touched, Caithwistë felt a warmth spreading through her like she had never felt before. It was as if the world had stopped spinning, and all that was left was them in this moment. His lips were softer than she could have ever imagined as they moved tentatively with hers. She tangled her fingers in his hair, and he let out a soft groan against her mouth.

Thorin pulled away from the kiss with a shaky breath and smiled, resting his forehead against hers. “Unalê.” He muttered softly, and tightened his grip on her hand that he was clinging onto. “Thank you for telling me.” He said after a few moments of content silence.

“Thank you for listening.” She said, truly grateful.

Thorin nodded, then leaned back. “It’s getting late. Allow me to escort you to your room?”

“I would be honored, Master Dwarf.” Caithwistë said with a giggle.

Thorin smirked as he stood, offering his arm to her. Caithwistë stood and slipped her arm into his, and they walked silently toward her bedroom. They stopped at her door, and Thorin placed a chaste kiss to her lips. “Good night, Unalê.”

“Good night, Thorin.” She said, and slipped into her bedroom. She closed the door behind her, and listened as Thorin’s footsteps faded.

When he was gone, she crossed the room and laid on her bed in a daze, thinking about what had just transpired. Thorin called her Unalê, just as he had in her dreams. The thought brought her warmth, and simultaneously terrified her. She was very fond of Thorin, but he still did not know what she was. He promised that he would try, but would that promise hold true when he found out about her? She tried to shake the thoughts from her head, frustrated. Not too long ago, her decision to leave the Company had seemed easy. Now, she wasn’t sure.

“What am I going to do?” She muttered to her pillows as she drifted to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who FINALLY is updating! THIS WRITER!! lol, sorry y’all, it’s been an absolutely insane month. But here you go! I had this one written, and I’m kind of sad that I didn’t post it before all the craziness… but here you go!  
> Translations: Unalê - My tracker (khuzdul)


	16. Rethinking

Sorry about the way overly extended break. I had the majority of this written, but the more I read it the more I hated the direction I took it. I'm going to simply put it on hold for now while I ponder on what to do.  
Again, for those of you that have followed the story I'm offering my humble apologies and a sincere promise not to leave a work half finished again.


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